


Stars on Our Knuckles

by 8ucky8arnes



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-07-07 19:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ucky8arnes/pseuds/8ucky8arnes
Summary: Fight for me,as I am fighting for you.This love runs too deepto be left up to fate.-FarawayA collection of one-shots or AUs for Thunderblink, based on various quotes and/or lyrics.





	1. Incandescently Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> _She was incandescently beautiful_  
>  _and beauty was the least of her._  
>  -Atticus

“Are you going to eye fuck her all night or do something about it?”

John coughed, nearly choking on his beer.

Marcos laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Give a guy a warning, babe.”

Lorna smirked, taking a swig from her own bottle and leaning back against the bar. She shrugged as John rolled his eyes with fond exasperation, grin widening when he finished off his drink and ordered another, “Oh come on Marcos, it’s not like he’s being subtle.”

John turned his gaze to his friend, eyebrow raised.

Marcos held up his hands in a halfhearted pleading gesture, “She’s right man.”

He shook his head, smiling despite the teasing. The two meant well and he couldn’t exactly blame them for their pushing. It had been enough of a struggle for them to get him out of his empty apartment on top of the fact that he’d just finished a five-year tour in Afghanistan. His mind was pulled from thoughts of war as vibrant purple hair flashed in the corner of his vision and once again drew his attention away from the knowing looks his friends were no doubt shooting his way…

She wore a little black sundress and denim jacket with her face tilted back and eyes closed. Her hands were above her head, hips swaying hypnotically in the flashing lights and pounding bass. She was simply the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her spirit was unconfined to her body, her smile almost childlike as she ran her fingers through her hair and spun. The magenta strands glowed in the smoky light, ethereal and falling around her face…

His grip on the bottle tightened with the urge to wrap his hands around her waist and pull her in, to see if he could soak that joy, that light into his bones. John clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away before she noticed him staring, the dog tags burning where they rested on his chest…

John lifted his head as Lorna slid off her bar stool, “Lorna, what are you…”

“I’m helping you.”

He sighed, “Helping me with what?”

She grinned, “Getting laid.”

By the time John had registered the words, she was already too far ahead for him to catch hold of her. He leaned back and took a deep, centering breath as Lorna approached the woman and finished off another beer, wondering if he should get something a little harder…

“I’m sorry, man you know how she gets…”

He looked down at the empty bottle with a small smile, tapping the glass in time with the music. He chuckled, resigning himself to whatever happened next, “Well…when Lorna’s right, she can be pretty hard to dissuade.”

Marcos just shook his head.

Lorna came back, her grin wide and mischievous as she dragged the violet-haired woman behind her. “This is the friend I was telling you about: John. John, this is…”

She held out a hand, “Clarice.”

He took it, ignoring the shock that went up his arm at the contact. John couldn’t help but smile when he caught the faint widening of her eyes, holding onto her hand a little longer than was probably (definitely) necessary. “Nice to meet you, Clarice.”

Clarice smirked, emerald eyes blatantly running down his body, “I could say the same.”

Marcos snorted and Lorna outright laughed.

John thanked his ancestors that his tanned skin hid the blush blooming in his cheeks.

“Lorna here said you wanted a dance?”

He cleared his throat, reluctantly dropping her hand, “I’m not really a dancer.”

Clarice grinned, a Cheshire cat smile that reminded John all too eerily of Lorna before she pulled something similar to this whole encounter. She took his hand and tugged, “All you need is a good teacher.”

Setting the bottle on the bar, he followed her lead.

She pulled him onto the dance floor and guided his hands to her waist while her arms wound around his neck. Clarice laughed at the slightly pained look on his face, glancing at the tattoos peeking from underneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt, “Come on soldier…loosen up a bit!”

He cracked a smile.

Her hands left the nape of his neck, trailing slowly down his chest. She smiled as John let out of shaky breath, stepping away and dancing like he watched her do only minutes ago, her hands above her head and hips swaying.

John was drawn in, like moth the flame, his hands finding the curve of her waist. That small, selfish part of him felt her warmth, craved it, and as he pulled her into him, his entire body felt lighter... _freer_...than it had been for years.

Clarice didn't falter, one hand reaching back to anchor itself in his dark hair. The action had her arching against him, rolling back with each throb of the base and baring the slim column of her throat.

John barely bit back a groan, his hold on her tightening.

Clarice laughed, “You’re holding back, John… _let go_.”

The last two words were breathed into the underside of his jaw, heat exploding in his chest and sending all the blood rushing south. He knew his fingers were probably leaving marks on her skin, but it was the only thing stopping him from completely dropping the reins on his self-control and pressing her into the nearest wall.

His tenuous hold slipped and he spun her around, hands settling on the base of her spine and pressing his forehead to hers. Years of discipline went out the window, his steady pulse thrumming under his skin and breathing harsh as he closed his eyes.

She felt so small wrapped in his arms, almost as though the pounding bass could lift her up and blow her away like smoke. There was a strength there too, a steel just underneath those soft curves pressed flush against him that told John she could take what life threw at her.

Clarice linked her hands behind his neck, slowly sliding herself up and stopping with her lips just short of his. Hers curled into a smile, hunger-darkened green burning with heat when she finally spoke, “Can I kiss you?”

His eyes snapped open at the question, the breath leaving him as he took in every detail on her face. From the sweat glistening along her hairline to the small scar over her right eye that he hadn’t noticed until then to the swell of her cheeks and the angle of her jaw, finally landing on parted lips that looked so soft and inviting…

In an uncharacteristic moment of “ _fuck it”_ (no doubt from his time around Lorna), he leaned down and sealed his mouth over hers in a bruising kiss that had them both groaning and pressing their bodies even closer together.

Nails dug sharply into the back of his neck, his hands sliding up her spine and under the jacket to find the exposed skin of her shoulders as soft and warm as the fingers now traveling across the width of his shoulders and down his arms, leaving fire in their wake.

He finally pulled back just enough to breathe, the burning in his lungs easing. John smiled down at Clarice, in amazement of the woman in front of him and just how quickly she tore through his walls…He reached up, brushing a thumb over the small scar that cut through her right eyebrow, completely speechless.

“Lorna didn’t mention you were such an amazing kisser.”

John groaned, turning to glare at his friends only to find them gone. He huffed out a breath. That woman was like the annoying little sister he’d never wanted… “Anything else she cared to _mention_?”

“She may have implied that it had been some time since your last…”

He put up a hand, “I got it.”

She laughed at his discomfort, “She meant well, you know.”

John sighed, “She _always_ means well…”

Clarice smirked, fingers playing with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck while her other hand splayed over his heart where his dog tags rested, “She isn’t the reason I came over…” she smiled and leaned forward to kiss him again, a soft, lingering kiss that promised so much… “I noticed you watching me long before that.”

“Really?” his voice wavered as her hand made its way down his abdomen.

She grinned, stopping at the waistband of his faded jeans, “So I wouldn’t be too adverse to find someplace a little more…secluded. If you want to, that is.”

He didn’t hesitate in responding, “My apartment building is around the corner.”

“What are you waiting for, then?”

Her grin sent his blood boiling once more, little being said on the way back to his place. It took a bit longer given the fact that neither seemed able to keep their hands off each other for long enough, but when they finally stumbled into the apartment it took no time for them to rid themselves of every piece of clothing.

John would _definitely_ be thanking Lorna in the morning.


	2. This Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _this love will be the end of me._  
>  -Ruby Dhal

Clarice was getting so _fucking_ tired of the triplets from hell.

Between them and Lorna, recruiting mutants to what was left of the Underground was growing more difficult and heartbreaking each time. She was tired of seeing Marcos walking around the base like a ghost. Tired of seeing John break objects in slips of frustration. Tired of seeing the shattered expressions what was left of the Strucker family as they tried to keep themselves busy…

She ducked behind a car as one of Andy’s blasts flipped another over her head, shielding one of the children that hadn’t been shuttled out in time. Clarice cursed as the little girl, Kara, began to cry, soothing her before yet another blast tore through the air.

“Clarice!”

Her head snapped up at the urgency in John’s voice, eyes widening the building above her started to crack. She scrambled away with Kara, large pieces of stone and metal hitting the ground where she had been crouched moments before.

He ran over to help her up, guiding the girl to the tree line where Caitlyn Strucker waited with first aid for the injured and turning back to her. Dark eyes looked over her intensely, pausing on the bleeding cut just below her hairline. “You alright?”

She waved off his concern, “Nothing that can’t wait ‘till later.”

John frowned.

“Seriously John, go get the others.”

He nodded, running back into the building.

Clarice went to join Caitlyn, combing her hand through the girl’s silver hair as the woman examined her scrapped-up forearm, both to comfort the girl and distract herself as she stared at the crumbling building where John had just entered.

She really had no reason to worry. He couldn’t get hurt…physically at least…

The images of Sonya’s body dropping flashing through her mind over and over again reminded her that John wasn’t completely impervious. Try as he may, she knew how deep his love and duty ran for the mutants of the Underground. They were both his strength and his weakness…

A small hand urgently tugged on her shirt, Kara’s solid white eyes looking up at her.

Clarice's stomach dropped at the fear that radiated off her.

Kara’s abilities were that of an empath, able to read and sometimes even influence another’s emotions. While she was, for all intents and purposes, blind, she saw the minute changes in someone’s intentions mere moments before anything outwardly happened…

“Kara, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“They’re in his head.” She clutched her head, “Painpainpain…”

Before she could ask Kara who she was talking about, she heard a scream come from inside the building. The sound itself was unfamiliar, but the voice was something she’d know from anywhere. “John…”

He cried out again.

Clarice ripped open a portal, “Caitlyn, take Kara and go.”

“Clarice…”

She nearly lost hold of the shimmering ring. “ _Go_ , we’ll meet up with you guys!”

Clarice waited until Caitlyn and Kara had gone through before opening another portal that showed her the dust-filled room. She jumping through without a second thought, his cries of pain instantly increasing in volume and Clarice had barely gotten her bearings before the wind was knocked out of her.

Esme, Phoebe, and Sophie were surrounding him, their eyes all glowing a vivid shade of blue. Their intent was clear as their voices spoke in unison, “You will tell us what we need to know…” one of them flinched back as his fist cracked the ground at his feet…

“Get away from him!”

They smiled down at John, one speaking, “Kill her.”

Clarice watched in horror as he fought not to stand, seeing every ounce of strength it was taking him to go as slow as possible. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe as he took one step forward, two steps… “John…”

He gasped, falling to one knee.

“Tell us what…”

“…we need to know or…”

“…she’ll die by your hand…”

His hands broke apart the concrete as he clenched them into fists, “Clarice…go…”

She shook her head, “I’m not leaving you.”

“Such guilt.” It was Esme who spoke, smirking as her heels clicked on the floor. “For failing in your duty as a soldier…a leader…a brother…” she hummed, “so much death that you couldn’t do anything about. You still feel their blood on your hands. Gus…Sonya…”

“Stop it!” Clarice growled, taking a step forward.

She laughed, another one of her sisters answering, “So strong-willed.”

The third’s brow furrowed, perturbed, “He’s blocking us...”

Their voices echoed eerily, “Stand up, John.”

“Stand up…”

“…and kill her”

Clarice wanted to punch them, to lash out at the smug grins. She wanted to portal them as far away from here as she could, but she would have to be close to him…close to _them_ …to do that and she wasn’t sure how much longer John could hold back all three of them. She did nothing, though, her eyes instead focusing on the tightness of his jaw and the white knuckles of his clenched fists.

“You will kill her…”

“…snap her neck…”

She finally took a step backward, noticing that he was struggling less with each passing second as he got to her feet once more and straightened his back. Clarice hated the pain…the pleading look that met her wide eyes…

She’d never once been scared of him. Not of his strength nor his invulnerability or even the occasional slip of anger that would break at least one piece of furniture without a mark or warning to show of it. Now though, Clarice felt the fear crushing her chest. She couldn’t fight him off, everyone in the room knew it. Once he got a hold of her, he could grab her neck and snap it before she could blink…

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes, “John…”

His intense gaze held her, “Get the others and go.”

Clarice’s steps faltered and she heard the unfamiliar sound of resignation in his voice, like in the moment following their return to the way station when he’d watched friends turn their backs on him. The reminder chilled her, “No.”

“Tell us John…”

“…tell us what we need to know…”

“…tell us and we’ll spare her…”

Her back hit debris, blocking her exit, and she’d barely made a move to go around it when the air shifted. Clarice watched as the triplet’s eyes glowed even brighter than before, not seeing him lunge forward until she felt the warm steel of his hand as it wrapped around her throat. She met his eyes, managing to choke out, “John…”

His arm trembled.

“Kill her.”

Clarice managed a nod, “It’s okay.”

“No…” He gritted out, fingers flexing against her skin. “…it’s not.”

The Psycho Triplets decided to speak up, “Interesting, I’ve…”

“…never seen someone…”

“…hold out for this long…”

Black dots were dancing on the edges of her vision…

“Perhaps it has something to do with his…”

“…mutant ability. Or possibly something to do with…”

Clarice coughed, her lungs burned and hands sparking with her ability’s last ditch effort to get her out of the next few moments alive. The next words out of their mouths was a shock of clarity…

“Ah…” they spoke in unison once more, “You’re in love with her.”

Clarice let out a gurgling, gasping breathe as fingers dug deeper into her flesh. Tears dripped from her eyes, chest and throat alight as her lungs seized, agony spreading from where his hand now held her inches off the ground. Yet she somehow still managed a smile, trying and failing to reach out and just touch him… And before his hand completely cut off her voice, she whispered at a volume no one but him would hear, “I love you too, John.”

Everything was starting to dim, her eyes slipping closed…

A bright flare of light had three identical voices cry out in pain and surprise.

Clarice landed on her hands and knees, hacking and choking on air as she pulled in one deep breath after another. She could barely hear anything over the blood rushing back into her head, but Marcos was plenty loud…

He held glowing fists in front of him, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Lauren knelt on the ground next to Clarice, “Can you stand?”

She tried to speak, the attempt like a knife through her throat, and nodded instead.

Lauren got her up to her feet, a hand on her elbow to keep her steady, turning to glare with hard, narrowed eyes on the triplets currently stumbling back.

“What is going on here?”

Clarice watched Marcos’ stance falter as Lorna came onto the scene with Andy not far behind. She would’ve be happy to see the fear on the triplet’s faces if she wasn’t seeing Marcos’ anger and Lauren’s bravado crumbling. She squeezed Lauren’s hand, trying to give her the strength to stand up in front of them all…and her brother…

“I would ask you little henchmen before you start questioning us.” The girl’s voice was biting, sharp with disgust and anger. Her gaze flitted to her brother, but she set her jaw and didn’t look his way again. 

Lorna looked at Clarice and the haunted, empty look on John’s face. Her eyes might’ve widened in disbelief for only a moment before narrowing on the three telepaths. “What were you trying to do?”

Andy didn’t do anything to hide his shock, “Lauren-”

Lauren turned, taking Clarice with her, silent tears trailing down her cheeks.

She was thankful when the girl sat them both down on a fallen tree and it wasn’t until then that she realized her entire body was trembling. Clarice smiled when Lauren squeezed her hand, returning the gesture.

“I thought it would get easier…seeing Andy with them.”

Even if she could form words, Clarice wasn’t sure that there was anything she could say that would make this…fucked up situation any better. So she just sat with her in silence, waiting for John and Marcos to come out of that building.

Minutes past before the two emerged, the men looking like they’d been through the wringer. John seemed a million miles away and Marcos just looked so…lost. Their eyes were dim and neither looked at the girls.

“Clarice, can you…” Marcos made a portal motion with his hands.

She nodded, pulling one open and watching as Lauren went through first, followed by Marcos. Clarice saw John stiffen for only a second before stepping through, her neck throbbing at his momentary proximity as she closed the portal behind her.

Caitlyn immediately ran up to her, guiding her over the small room that served as a place for first-aid. She caught a glimpse of John as he walked away, everyone else giving him a wide berth as he disappeared out the back door and into the surrounding countryside…

Caitlyn didn’t bother with questions as she examined the bruising with gentle hands, although judging from the heavy sadness in her eyes, she hadn’t needed too. She stepped back a couple minutes later, “Well Clarice, I’ll to check back in with you once the swelling has gone down, but as of right now there appears to be no lasting damage.”

_“You’re in love with her.”_

Clarice couldn’t help but think back to the words the triplets had torn from his head and her own choked off confession as his hand tightened around her throat. The distance in his expression was what worried her the most. It was like he wasn’t all there…

_No lasting damage my ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will definitely be more parts to this storyline (two or three?). I will post the next part tomorrow.


	3. Pardon My Sadness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _A deep sigh_  
>  _isn't deep enough_  
>  _to exhale the ache that_  
>  _I feel inside of me_  
>  _this morning._  
>  -Faraway

It had been over a week since the disaster with her, the triplets, and John and Clarice found herself wandering around their new headquarters for the third night in a row in an effort to seek him out. She should’ve known better, though, that if John didn’t want her seeing him, he would have no problem with avoiding her.

She sighed, grabbing a water bottle from the stack and flopping back onto the couch. Clarice smiled as Zingo jumped up and laid her head in her lap, the soft fur between her fingers not as much of a distraction as she would’ve hoped…

The dog’s ears perked up when Lauren walked in seconds later.

“Hey.” Clarice was glad her voice had lost its hoarseness, “Can’t sleep?”

She shrugged, scooting over and laying her cheek on her shoulder.

Her arm wrapped around the girl, glad that someone was talking to her.

While she understood why people would steer clear of John, Clarice wasn’t sure what she had done to deserve their avoidance. _Was it because of how close she was to John? Were they afraid to upset her?_ Clarice almost laughed at the thought. Nothing anyone said or did could upset her at this point.

Why had she told him she loved him? There couldn’t have possibly been a worse time to say it, with his hand slowly crushing her throat and the triplets in his mind. She’d no doubt made the whole thing worse for him. No wonder he’d been avoiding her…

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to him?”

Clarice shook her head, “I don’t what I expected honestly. I wouldn’t either.”

Lauren’s expression became confused.

Clarice sighed, “I told him I loved him.”

Her face brightened and for a moment, there was almost a smile, but the realization of why that was probably a bad thing quickly dimmed it. Brown eyes glanced at the fading bruises with a frown, “I’m sorry.”

She managed a small smile, “Thanks, kid.”

“Hey!”

The two looked up to see Marcos jog into the room, concern and worry clear in his dark eyes. He glanced at the two of them, “Have either of you seen John? I need to talk to him.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, he’s been avoiding me.”

He sighed, “Lauren?”

“Last I saw him was about two hours ago…said he was going into town.”

“ _¡Maldita sea!_ Did he say why?”

Lauren shook her head, “That’s all he told me.”

Marcos rubbed at his temple, “Clarice, could you…”

She nodded, gently nudging Zingo off her as she got to her feet. Thankfully, she’d been into town a couple of times during supply runs so opening a portal there wouldn’t be such a pain. “Where?”

“You’ll have to…cover up first.”

Her lips curled, she _hated_ doing that, “Why can’t I just send you though?”

“He hasn’t been listening to me…and I don’t want to cause a scene. Can you just…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation slipping into his voice, “Can you just go get him and bring him back?”

_Cause a scene?_ “Where the hell is he?”

His eyes flicked over Lauren, then back to her, “Try the bar.”

Both were shocked by that admittance, sharing a concerned look. Clarice tucked a purple strand behind a pointed ear, suddenly feeling even guiltier about what she’d said to him. She’d always known him as the level-headed leader of the Mutant Underground, calm and stoic in the face of so much chaos. But he’d taken so many blows in the last few months and she knew just how quickly everything could come crashing down… “What do I say?”

“Tell him James called.”

Clarice frowned.

“Trust me, he’ll know who I’m talking about.”

She nodded, leaving the common area and walking over to where the medical supplies were and dug out an old make-up case and slid it open. She applied the tattoo cover-up to the marks over her right eye and the bruising, put normal green contacts in, and made sure her hair covered her ears before she opened a portal into a dim alleyway and stepped through.

The odd combination of wet asphalt and oil hit her nose, the mist from the rain hours earlier still hanging in the air as she smoothed down her hair and walked around the corner and pulled open the wooden door.

Clarice was immediately hit with the overwhelming stench of beer and cigarettes smoke, nose crinkling in disgust and a headache already starting to form behind her eyes. If it was this bad for her, she couldn’t imagine what it was like for John. Enhanced senses were both a blessing and curse, as he said…

She pushed her way through the throngs of drunks, having to remove at least two wandering hands before she finally reaching the bar. Clarice slid into an empty stool, waving down the bartender and trying to spot John in the poorly lit space. She was probably better off asking than trying to venture back into _that_ crowd…

A large tatted man, as tall and broad as John, wiped the counter off before grabbing a glass and setting it down in front of her. He slung the rag over his shoulder, “Why can I do you for, darlin’?”

On any other night, she would’ve raised an eyebrow at the pet name, but she had other things to worry about like a drunk nearly indestructible, mutant with super strength. She just hoped everyone was too inhibited to notice. “I’m actually looking for someone?”

“Aren’t we all?”

Clarice managed a smile, “I’m looking for my boyfriend…” she figured that would be a better reason to show up and drag a large drunk man off without suspicion, “he and I had this big argument and he’s been avoiding me. His friend said he’d be here…”

“Wouldn’t happen to be a military man, would he?”

For a split second, she feared he hadn’t covered his own distinctive tattoos. The worry went away quickly though as John wouldn’t be _that_ stupid (any more stupid than he was to get drunk at a bar). Hell, the man practically radiated “soldier” as soon as you saw him…”Yeah. He’s a little taller than you…dark skin…black hair…”

He motioned over her shoulder, “Over in the corner booth.”

She turned, seeing the familiar head bowed over a drink, “Thanks.”

Two tumblers with three fingers of amber liquid were put in front of her and he waved off her objections, sliding them over. “These are for him…told me to have them ready for whoever showed up looking for him…”

She picked up the glasses and weaved through the people, sliding in the empty seat across from him and placed the drink on the table. Clarice frowned at the shards of glass littering the surface, confirmation that the alcohol had at least dulled the conscious effort he usually took when using his strength or he was angry. She hadn’t seen him like this before… “John?”

 He grabbed the tumbler and emptied it, the glass shattering as he tried to set it back on the table. John mumbled something inaudible but did nothing more when he finally lifted his head and met her gaze.

“John…”

Distant brown eyes stared back at her, reminding Clarice somewhat of the moments before he tracked someone…that is if she could ignore the flushed cheeks and the glaze that dulled the piercing and intense focus he always had whenever he looked at her.

“Are you drunk?

He chuckled, a hollow sound, “An astute observation.”

Clarice took a drink, wincing as straight whiskey burned down her throat. She frowned into the glass, wondering just how many of these he’d had to have to get this…inhibited. She almost would’ve preferred him angry...

He cocked his head, one corner of his mouth lifting, “I saw you coming…”

She raised a brow, “Isn’t that your thing?”

John picked up a small piece of glass between his index finger and thumb, pressing them together and watching as it fell like dust to the worn wood. His expression darkened, eyes as sharp and broken as the glass glittering on the tabletop,  “That’s how close I was to killing you…” he worked his jaw, “just a pinch.”

She glanced around, “This isn’t the place for this conversation, John.”

He frowned, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Clarice stood, sliding up next to him and curled her hand over his forearm. She waited until dark eyes peered through a curtain of hair, recalling the conversation that had on the dirt road minutes before reaching her old foster home. He’d become the wounded animal he’d spoken of…Where did he feel safe? “Never in a million years would I ever think you would.”

Glass crunched in his fist, “But I did it anyway.”

“They made you do it, John…we both know that.”

His shoulders tensed.

She leaned into him, “John?”

“Hey, darlin’?”

She squeezed John’s arm, turning to the bartender with what she hoped was a mildly perturbed expression. Clarice didn’t want the man or John to do something stupid like a break a table or call Sentinel Services, “Yes, uh…?”

“Miles.”

“Well Miles, we both good here so-”

He lowered his voice, “I know you’re both mutants.”

Clarice blinked, John growling something under his breath, “How-?”

Spikes shot out of the Miles’ hand and into the wood, reminding Clarice of a porcupine and immediately changing the course of the conversation. She watched as they slid back into his skin, the intent of all the tattoos clear…

“Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you two, alright?”

Clarice nodded, tugging on John’s arm, “Let’s go.”

Miles nodded, returning to the bar like the talk had never happened.

Clarice pulled on John’s wrist, avoiding the glass on his fingers tips. She figured him embedding it in her skin would be counterproductive to convincing him that she had no reason to be afraid of him hurting her.

Surprising, he didn’t put up much of an argument as she guided them to the bar nor when she reached into his leather jacket’s pocket that most likely had some cash from their stash at the station. He kept a protective arm wrapped around her the entire time, eyes regaining some of their intensity as he stared down anyone who came near her.

Normally Clarice might snapped back with an “I can protect myself you know”, once again not having the energy nor the heart to point it out to him right now. She was glad, though, that no one tried to test John at this point. “How much for the whiskey…and the glasses?”

Miles just shook his head, “On the house.”

She raised a brow, “Why?”

“You need that money for more important things, I assume?”

Clarice managed a smile, “Thank you, Miles.”

He nodded, “Go on, then.”

She lead them through the crowd, which parted for them rather easily, and outside into the parking lot. Clarice nearly fell as he staggered, his weight and invulnerable skin sending her into the side of the building _hard_ (breaking a piece of wooden siding in the process).

John held himself up as she pulled open a portal that lead straight to his room, knowing that the stubborn idiot wouldn’t want anyone seeing him as anything less than their calm and stoic leader.

She grabbed onto a bicep, steering him to the foot of his bed and sitting him on the edge of the mattress. Clarice almost smiled as he flopped backward, the distance in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling dimming her amusement.

She went to portal to the bathroom when a hand gently curled over her shoulder, startling her and causing the beginnings of the portal to spark and sputter out in her palms. Clarice turned, ending up chest to chest with him. She looked up into his eyes, seeing something heartbreakingly familiar. A brokenness that turned those dark brown depths into storms and his expression to stone. “John?”

“Don’t leave…please.”

She managed a smile, “I’m just going to take out these contacts and change into my pajamas, alright? I’ll be right back.”

He let go.

Clarice quickly portaled to the bathroom and removed both the contacts and cover-up, creating another to change into sweats and a ratty black tank top and finally returning to his room where she found him shirtless, lying face-down on the bed and passed out.

She pulled the sheets over him as much as she could, pulling the small blanket folded over the back of the couch and a pillow from the bed and curling up on the couch, falling asleep to the sound of his soft snoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part will be up tomorrow!


	4. That's Why I'll Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I just wanted you to know_  
>  _That I'll never care_  
>  _How far you push me away_   
> _Because when I told you_  
>  _That I would stay_  
>  _I meant it_  
>  -Courtney Peppernell

_Crash!_

Clarice woke up instantly, nearly falling off the couch as she scrambled upright. She looked in the direction of the sound and the remains of the bedside table laying shattered on the floor, finally registering that there was a ringing phone amidst the wreckage.

John groaned, hands clamped tightly over his ears.

Clarice winced sympathetically, knowing just how painful a normal hangover was…but with enhanced senses? She stood up and walked over to the destroyed furniture, bending down to pick up the phone. Not wanting the ringing to continue, she answered the call without looking at the Caller ID and left the room, “Hello?”

She nearly got halfway down the hall before someone responded.

“Who is this? Where’s John?”

Clarice barely bit back the sarcastic remark, sensing the unease in this person’s voice. “This is Clarice. John is…” she glanced over her shoulder at the closed door where John was no doubt still trying to block out all the noise. _Had he slept at all?_ “…indisposed.”

“Is he alright?”

She hesitated, not knowing who was on the other side or why they were calling John. Clarice felt uncomfortable with sharing John’s current state with anyone. This person may be worried about him, but they probably thought he was hurt…not that he was hungover. Even if they were a friend…. “Who is this?”

His response was immediate, “James Proudstar…his brother.”

The name Marcos had mentioned the night before came rushing back. This must’ve been who’d tried to call him. She wondered what had been so important… “Well…” She worried her lip, not entirely sure how to broach the hell that had been the last week…she sighed, “a lot’s happened. When was the last time you talked to him?”

James’ concern was palpable, “About a month ago…why?”

She stepped outside, making sure there was no one around to overhear. Everyone had silently agreed that what had transpired in the warehouse was best kept between those who’d been there, the last thing the Mutant Underground needed to know was how one of their leaders nearly killed another…but this was John’s family. James deserved to know what happened to his brother… “Our group ran into telepaths from the Hellfire Club and John had information they wanted. Obviously, he refused and they forced him to…” she trailed off, raising a hand to the healing bruises around her neck, “…hurt someone.”

James muttered a curse, “When was this?”

“Little over a week ago.”

“How is he?”

She sighed again, “Physically he’s fine…but he’s been quieter than usual.”

The background noise faded on the other end as he too found a private place before he spoke once more, “They didn’t just force him to hurt someone, did they?”

Clarice swallowed as the feeling of his hand wrapping around her throat and the horror in his eyes as they tore into his head flashed through her mind. She went to shake her head, but stopped herself and responded, “No.”

Silence. Then…

“He hurt you.”

The words weren’t put into a question, but a statement of fact so Clarice didn’t bother refuting him. She should’ve been angrier…more defensive of what had taken place, but she was tired of tip-toeing around other’s questioning looks. Clarice offhandedly wondered if being perceptive was a Proudstar trait…

“Look, I know this may be asking a lot, especially after everything, but…” he sighed, “I know my big brother puts on a good face for the others, being the leader and all…but he needs someone by him in times like now. John isn’t as indestructible as he seems…”

_Tell me about it_. “I had to drag him from a bar last night so…I’ve figured that bit out.” She rolled her right shoulder, the whole side of her body still stiff after he’d practically slammed her into the building…

“Ah…”

“You sound like this isn’t the first time.”

James cleared his throat, “John sort of…implodes when he’s overwhelmed.”

Clarice hummed in agreement.

“I’ll call back tomorrow…Just stay with him, alright?”

She almost scoffed at him thinking she wouldn’t but stopped herself. “I will.”

“Thank you, Clarice.”

The call disconnected and Clarice leaned back against the siding, looking out at the surrounding forest and breathing in the scent of pine. She spun the phone around in her hands and watched as a couple of the kids ran by with Zingo, smiling as Norah came over.

“Hi, Clarice!”

She offered a small smile, “Hey Norah.”

The girl’s gaze landed on the phone, “Is that yours?”

“Uh, no. It’s John’s actually.”

The name had Norah looking around as if finally realizing the man’s absence. She frowned, looking back up at Clarice, “Where’s John?”

“Sleeping…he isn’t feeling well.”

Her brows furrowed, “Is he sick?”

She pursed her lips, “Just a bad headache.”

Zingo butted her nose against the girl’s hand and whined, clearly eager to play. Norah looked down at him with a thoughtful, almost sad expression that looked out of place on her young face, “His powers hurt him…don't they?”

Clarice blinked, shocked by the question and unsure of how to respond.

John’s enhanced senses, tracking skills, and near invulnerability had saved everyone’s asses on multiple occasions (her own included), but she’d often wondered the same thing. In just the last twenty-four hours, though, she’d learned the answer to that question. Whether it was mind-splitting headaches from over stimulation or directing his anger inward to protect others from his strength…his abilities caused him pain.

“Yeah…they do.”

“You should make him some of Mama D's sweet tea. It always worked for me.”

The reminder hit her like a sledgehammer, and she managed a smile. She wondered, for probably the millionth time, of what memories Sonya had taken from the girl’s mind as well as the ones she’d put back. Norah was at peace with their losses now…like she hadn’t seen them gunned down by Sentinel Services… “She never told me the recipe for it.”

Norah’s grinned, “She told me.”

…………………………………………

After applying all the necessary cover-up, she took some money from the cache and knocked on the partially opened down. “Want to go on a grocery run?”

Lauren looked up from her book, “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah. You down?”

“Uh…sure. I’ll get my shoes on.”

Clarice was glad she didn’t ask any questions as she grabbed the keys for one of their under-the-radar cars and left without telling the Struckers or Marcos. She wasn’t really in the mood to answer their questions anyway…

Lauren kept her silence until they pulled into the grocery parking lot, her brown eyes scrutinizing Clarice’s taut expression. She snagged the woman’s sleeve, not perturbed by the sharp look shot she got in return, “What’s going on Clarice?”

Clarice pulled away and turned off the ignition. “Nothing.”

“Is it about John?”

Clarice sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Lauren…”

“Was it bad last night?”

“No, it’s just…” she got out of the car and waited until Lauren shut her own door before locking it and slipping the keys into her jacket pocket, “My foster mom used to make this…amazing sweet tea. Said it could cure most anything. Thought I’d try it.”

“Can it cure a hangover?”

Clarice smiled slyly, “Worked for me.”

Lauren laughed, “Then let’s go!”

Pulling out the list of ingredients, they tossed each of them into the cart. Clarice kept an eye out to see if anyone noticed anything suspicious, but no one paid her a passing glance under they reached the checkout and a familiar tatted arm rested on the edge of the conveyor belt. She turned, “Miles?”

He smiled at her, holding out a hand, “Good to see you again…”

“Clarice…” she took the proffered hand, “and this is Lauren.”

He inclined his head, “How’s your boyfriend doing?”

Clarice blushed and she heard Lauren snort, “He’s good…just hungover.”

He laughed, “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

“Miss?” The cashier, a girl Lauren’s age, eyed Miles nervously.

“I’ll let you go then.”

Clarice watched him go as she paid for their groceries, wondering if the cashier was skittish around him because she knew he was a mutant or if it was his intimidating stature and inked skin…

“Who was that?” Lauren asked as soon as they got to the car.

“Bartender…got us out before anyone realized we were mutants.”

The girl hummed, putting the groceries by her feet and buckling up. “So…”

Clarice sighed, “Lauren…”

“John’s your boyfriend now?”

She groaned, glancing in the mirrors and making sure they weren’t followed out. Clarice vehemently tried to push down the blush burning her face, refusing to look over at Lauren, “It made sense at the time.”

Lauren raised her hands with a teasing smile, "No need to get defensive."

Clarice huffed out a breath, returning her eyes to the road. She couldn't begrudge the girl her teasing jabs, noting the smile she wore was one she hadn't seen a lot of in the last few months... "I'm not so much being defensive as..."

"You don't want him to hear."

Her face _burned_. She didn't know why she was so embarrassed by the thought of him hearing after they'd _kind of_ professed their love for each other. Did that mean they were in a relationship now? Or did the Triplets' damage that possibility? 

"Alright..." Her tone had softened, "I won't say anything."

Clarice parked the car with a relieved sighed, "Thanks."

Lauren offered another small smile before leaving the car.

Clarice followed Lauren inside, stopping in the kitchen and depositing both the keys and groceries on the counter before portalling back to her room to remove the annoyances that were the make-up and irritating contacts. Pulling her hair back into a messy bun, she returned to the kitchen and got to work.

Fifteen minutes and a couple of muttered curses later, she had poured herself two glasses and put the pitcher in the refrigerator that was probably almost as old as her. She took them up to his room the long way, mindful of any noise she made the closer she got to his door.

She was only slightly surprised when John cracked open the door, noting the dark shadows under bloodshot eyes and sickly pallor of his skin. Figuring it was best not to mention his appearance, Clarice held up the glasses, keeping her voice soft, “Can I come in?”

In response, he opened the door wider and stepped to the side.

She set the glasses on the dresser and shrugged off her jacket, folding it over the back of the chair. Clarice trying to make as little unnecessary noises as possible, which was made all the more difficult the moment she’d realized he’d taken his shirt off at some point, nearly hitting her head on the corner of the dresser after bending over to take off her boots. How she hadn’t noticed until that point was a mystery to her…

He lowered himself back onto the bed, his body bowed forward as he rubbed his temples. Every line of his back and shoulders were rigid, like a coil drawn tighter and tighter with each breath…

She picked up the glasses and sat down next to him, close enough to feel the heat of all that bare skin and see him tense further…Clarice tried to ignore the near pained look on his face at her proximity, reminding her of the moment he walked through her portal with empty eyes. She shook herself from that distracting train of thought, holding up one of the glasses instead, “Want some tea?”

Without looking at her, he took it.

She smiled as he drank the whole glass in one go. “You feeling any better?”

“Getting there.”

Clarice hummed.

He straightened, running a hand through his hair.

She tore her eyes away from the muscles that flexed underneath his tanned skin at the action. Clarice didn’t miss his ghost of a smile, no doubt noting her…wandering gaze, and heat bloomed in her cheeks.

He returned the empty glass, “Thanks for the tea.”

She sensed the dismissal in his tone, “John…”

“Clarice…” dark eyes bore into hers, that intensity back at full force, “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

She remembered the night before and how broken his voice was when he asked to stay like he couldn’t bear to be alone anymore. Clarice sympathized more than she would ever admit, so she knew he didn’t _really_ want her to go…

Setting the glasses down on the floor, she wrapped an arm around his back and rested her head on his shoulder. She reached down and grasped the hand that had nearly killed her a week ago, threading her fingers through his. “No matter what you say or do, John Proudstar…I will always be here for you. I won’t leave you.”

A shudder went through him and he leaned into her touch. “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her lips to his temple and said nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more part left on this angsty-as-hell storyline!


	5. There's Enough Sunlight for Us All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You are_ not _wrong_  
>  _for wanting better_  
>  _for yourself, but_  
>  _you_ are _wrong_  
>  _if that means_  
>  _destroying_  
>  _someone else._  
>  -Faraway
> 
> This part has some slight Lorna bashing. You've been warned.

She’d stayed with him the rest of the day, thankful when Marcos took care of any issues that came up as not to bother them. They talked about everything: her stint in the foster system, his life before his abilities manifested, her life with Mama D, and his family. Nothing was off limits…except _that_ day.

Clarice hadn’t been able to gather whatever information the Frosts had been digging around in his head for and she understood why he didn’t tell her. She had no experience with telepaths, so she was sure her thoughts would be a lot easier to get. Clarice didn’t want to risk whoever it was John was protecting any more than he did.

She’d fallen asleep with her back pressed against his chest, his arm draped over her waist and his warmth wrapped around her like a cocoon and it was that closeness that woke her when John sat up abruptly with a curse that wasn’t in English.

He ran a hand through his hair, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Clarice sat up with a yawn, looking over at the clock. _2:36 am._ “What John? What is it?”

He sighed, “We have a visitor.”

_That_ snapped her awake, “Who?”

His expression grew tortured…pained, “It’s Lorna.”

Anger fills her chest, but she wasn’t sure it was entirely at the other woman. The Frost triplets? The Hellfire Club? No…it was more of a protective anger than anything else. No matter her own feelings on Lorna leaving, the impact she’d had on the ones she’d left behind was too big not to feel… “No entourage?” 

His frown deepens, “No, just her.”

“Should I go get Marcos?”

He shook his head, “She just wants to talk to me.”

Clarice huffed out a breath, “Well, I’m coming with you.”

A twitch of his lips, “I don’t think I could stop you.”

She leaves to change into dark jeans and holey gray, long-sleeved shirt and boots before meeting him by the front door. She squeezed his hand in silent support, letting go as he stepped out first. Clarice followed him to the edge of the dark forest that surrounded the way station, catching the glint of moonlight off bright green hair and metal before Lorna stepped out into the clearing.

His voice was weary when he finally spoke, “Why are you here Lorna?”

Dark eyes flitted between him and Clarice, “I wanted to apologize.”

Clarice didn’t miss the shadows passing over his face, too much like the ones she’d seen that night in the bar for her liking, nor the trembling right hand, her neck throbbed dully at the feeling of said hand cutting off her air. That protective anger hovering underneath the surface exploded in full force and she snapped, “What are you apologizing for exactly? Leaving Marcos? Taking Andy and Sage? Or is it for the psycho triplets having John nearly kill me?”

John’s hand tugged on her wrist, “Clarice…”

“I didn’t have anything to do with their methods-”

“ _Methods?_ That’s rich coming from the woman who ripped apart a plane-”

“ _Clarice_.”

Her mouth snapped shut at his stern tone, immediately feeling guilty when she saw the tense set of his shoulders and the hand Lorna held protectively over her swollen stomach. Drudging up those events wasn’t going to help anyone right now, so she let John pull her back, her jaw clenched as she stood still.

“Why did you come back here Lorna? And don’t tell me it’s just to apologize.”

Clarice watched the silent stare down, an unspoken conversation that reminded her that the two of them had worked together for _years_ side-by-side, building up the Mutant Underground from nothing. _How could partners like that split so violently?_

She remembered the words she’d spoken to Lorna, about how a tiny speck of DNA didn’t change who you were and she could’ve sworn the words had had an impact…maybe just not as significant as she’d hoped…

“You know I didn’t want to hurt you, John…not like that.”

He ran a hand through his hair, voice as hard and impenetrable as his skin, “Then how else would they have known I was the only one with the information they needed. I’ve only ever told one other person about my knowledge and that’s you.”

Lorna’s expression went steely, but she said nothing in defense.

Clarice was torn between going to John and lunging at Lorna, but she somehow managed to stay still as he stepped closer. Watching the two of them confront each other was a little nerve-wracking, the moon casting her in a silvery glow while the shadows seem to cling to John…

“Having them use Clarice to force my hand…” he tightened his jaw, “I don’t care if you told them what to do or not. They have a habit of leaving bodies behind after their commands have been followed. They manipulate others to suit their own needs and telling them what I knew, _knowing_ that…” he sighs, resigned as he stepped back with that same wounded expression, “You’re just as bad as them, _shilah_.”

The last word seemed to strike home and Lorna flinched. “John…”

He turned and started walking back in the direction they’d come.

Clarice faced Lorna, the anger dimming at how lost she looked, like she’d thought that John would eventually forgive her for everything she’d done. And if the whole thing with the Triplets hadn’t happened…maybe he might’ve, “Remember what I said Lorna, our DNA doesn’t define who we’ll be or the choices we make.”

She looked at the ground, eyes conflicted, “I’m _sorry_ , Clarice.”

Clarice nodded, the anger in her disappearing with a weary sigh, “I know.”

She left Lorna in the clearing, finding John hunched over on the edge of his bed, his body as taut as a bowstring. Clarice was only somewhat surprised that he hadn’t snapped yet, but the night at the bar reminded her of just how much he could hold back. She sat next to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Should we say anything to Marcos?”

“I’ll talk to him about it in the morning.”

She nodded, “That word you called Lorna…what does it mean?”

His fond smile was heavy with sadness, “Sister.”

Guilt squeezed her chest, “I’m sorry, John.”

“You have nothing to apologize for Clarice.” His arm snaked around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her temple, the position eerily similar to the night before. “I understand her frustrations and I know all she wants to do to is protect her people, her family, her _child…_ ” his gaze went distant, “I think the Frosts forgot that when they targeted me and the Mutant Underground. She will always be a part of our family and when she is truly ready to make a decision to leave or stay, I know she will make the right choice for _her_.”

She remembered the anger she’d felt watching the Purifier torch her car while everyone watched or the grief as she stood in the wreckage of her foster home or the helplessness at seeing Sonya’s lifeless body fall to the ground. Clarice herself remembered the moment when she was with the Brotherhood when she realized what they were doing wasn’t right and she left and Lorna _would_ have that moment of clarity. Clarice was sure of that. “I have another question for you…if that’s alright.”

“You want to know what the Frosts were looking for.”

“It’s okay if you don’t. I know you wouldn’t guard it so fiercely if it wasn’t important…”

He played with the beaded bracelet on his wrist, “My brother, James, just graduated high school this year. He’s going to take a more prominent role of a large group of mutants in and around Phoenix. They have a couple of powerful players, James being one of them, and even a telepath rumored to be near X-Men level.”

“The Hellfire Club wants them.”

“The base’s location is only known to a select few, most off which aren’t in the country, but I’ve kept contact with him for the last year.” His voice gained that hard edge, but his eyes were somber when he turned to look at her, “I promised my mother I would protect him at any costs and I’m sorry you almost paid it at my hand.”

“You don’t have to say anything more, alright?” The triplets’ taunting words echoed in her head, mocking his pain and insecurities in hopes to gain more pawns for their twisted mind games. “You are an amazing leader, the best big brother anyone could have, and you have the biggest heart I know. I love you for all of these things and more John Proudstar. You aren’t a failure.” She leaned back, reaching up with one hand to run it lightly through his dark hair, “They’re _wrong_.”

The feeling of his lips of hers was absolutely breathtaking, his warmth encompassing her like nothing else would as she slid onto his lap and pressed herself closer, finger tangling in his dark hair. Maybe they would be alright after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will definitely be something a little lighter!


	6. Looking for a Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _She wasn't looking for a knight,_  
>  _she was looking for a sword._  
>  -Atticus

John sat down under the shade of one of the trees on the quad, stretching his legs out in front of him with his back against the trunk and crossing his ankles before pulling his reading for this afternoon’s History lecture. He glanced up as Marcos and Lorna walked up hand in hand.

“Hey John.” Lorna grinned down at him, “What’re you reading?”

Before he could answer she pulled the stapled stack of paper from his hand.

She frowned, returning it to him, “Boring.”

He took it back from her with a smile, “I guess you didn’t do your homework again?”

She flipped him off.

John shook his head with a laugh.

Marcos sat next to him and leaned back on his elbows, tilting his face into the sun and smiling when Lorna laid her head on his lap. His fingers immediately began carding through her bright green hair…

The image reminded him too much of him and Sonya, John quick returning his attention to the academic article staring back up at him. The last thing he need was thoughts of his ex clouding his mind right now…

A flash of color caught his eye and he looked up as a wolf whistle reached his ears, clenching his jaw and trying to focus on the words in his hand instead of the purple-haired girl walking by and how badly he wanted to punch the asshole who was blatantly eyeing her.

This probably hadn’t been the first time it had happened to her given that she completely ignored him and continued on her way. She paused, though, when the idiot decided to make it worse by opening his mouth.

“Come on, babe. I’ll make it worth your while.”

She scoffed, “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Marcos’ hand stopped him from lunging to his feet when the man wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her back, fingers digging into his bicep. “Don’t do it man.” Dark eyes pleaded with him, “Besides, it looks like she has this handled.”

John barely registered the words, but remained where he was.

The girl’s expression hardened and she ripped her arm from his hold to glare at him, muttering words too low for John to hear. Her jaw tightened as the guy laughed, clearly not taking whatever she’d told him seriously.

“Come on Clarice, don’t play so hard to get.”

The girl, Clarice, narrowed her eyes, “I’m not exactly sure what Aaron told you-”

He chuckled, lewdly running his eyes over her cut-offs and tank top, “Plenty.”

“Then I suggest leaving me alone.” She turned to leave, “if you don’t mind.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” His hand curled over her hip…

John’s vision flashed red…

Clarice spun, grabbing his shoulders and ramming her knee up into his groin in one swift movement, shouldering her bag as the guy fell to the ground with a pained groan.  She smiled down at him with amusement, turning to the criminal justice building and walking through the clear double doors.

Marcos looked at John, “Told you she had it handled.”

Lorna grinned, poking him in the shoulder, “You _liiike_ her.”

He raised an eyebrow at the singsong tone.

Marcos shrugged, “You do have a type, man.”

John glanced at his watch, stuffing the papers into his bag. He stood and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. He combed dark hair back from his face, “And what type would that be Marcos…Lorna?”

Lorna answered, “The type of girl that can kick the great John Proudstar’s ass.”

John chuckled, “I have to go to class…Lorna?”

“Text me the notes?”

He smiled fondly, “Alright, see you guys later then.”

The couple left.

John hated how Lorna’s words had burned themselves in his head, repeating themselves over and over again. He was tempted to follow Clarice, talk to her, but he shook his head and continued to the lecture hall. All that would accomplish was her putting him on the ground as well…

The fact that he wasn’t completely adverse to that idea had him irritated at Lorna for many reasons. She, more than Marcos, knew how the women he’d ever been with had only caused him heartbreak and how his penchant from attracting trouble never ended well for any relationship. Hell, she’d called him a masochist on occasion because of it…

So why had she pointed out this girl to him? Lorna was many things: loyal, stubborn, and impulsive to name a few…but she wouldn’t just throw him back into the fire so soon after him and Sonya split. Maybe she was seeing something he wasn’t…

Maybe this time would be different…


	7. Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But today, if you asked me  
> How many things I fear,  
> I will say just one.  
>  _Losing you._  
>  -Nikita Gill

_“Children, clasp hands.”_

_Clarice strained against the arms of the men holding her back, glaring daggers at Campbell, wishing she could open a portal into a wall and throw him into it. She looked at the screen, seeing the terrified eyes of Lauren and Andy as they stood defiantly apart._

_She glanced over at Sonya, who…_

_Clarice nearly collapsed, horror freezing her blood. “No…”_

_It was John who stood there now, with an inhibitor collar on. There were two guards on either side and half a dozen surrounding him. His expression was eerily calm, eyes softening when he saw her looking, an apologetic smile on his lips…_

_She shook her head, tears filling her eyes, “No…don’t…”_

_He lunged at the doctor…_

_Campbell raised his gun to John’s head and fired…_

Clarice’s eyes snapped open with a choked-off scream, hands immediately grasping at her bare throat as she tried to kick off the suffocating heat of the sheets. She blinked the tears away, her breathing harsh as she ran a hand through her sweat dampened hair…

John came into her room seconds later, no doubt hearing her from clear across the building. Without a word, he came over at sat next to her, pulling her trembling body into his arms and murmuring something she couldn’t hear over her breathing.

Clarice clung to him, fingers fisting his t-shirt as she buried her face in his chest. She should’ve been upset or even embarrassed that he was seeing her like this, but she wasn’t…not in the least. Like back in her old foster home now riddled with bullet holes and drying blood, she felt _whole_ in his arms in a way that she couldn’t really explain.

He was her home now. Her safe place.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Fingers carded through her hair, “I’m here…”

The image of John’s lifeless body lying on the floor with a growing pool of blood around his head flashed through her mind, sending a shudder through her and tearing a sob from her throat. Clarice squeezed her eyes shut when his arms tightened around her.

She wasn’t sure how long it took for her to completely calm down, but Clarice was thankful that John had stayed. His steady heartbeat had helped, his warmth wrapping around her like a cocoon. “I’m sorry…for waking you up.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Clarice. Besides…” he pulled back, brushing a purple strand behind a pointed ear, one corner of his mouth lifted, “people have been coming and going for days. So trust me when I say me being awake is not entirely your doing.”

She nodded, playing with the beaded bracelet on his wrist, running a finger over the zig-zag pattern. It was a beautiful piece, the leather cord tying it all together gave her the impression that it had been handmade for him. Maybe when there wasn’t so much going on, she would ask him about it… She slid her fingers through his, “You’re not going to ask?”

“I know better than to push you.”

She sighed, “I was back in that lab with…with Campbell…” Clarice squeezed his hand when she felt him stiffen, almost keeping her from telling him the rest, “but instead of…Sonya…” her voice cracked, the name still hard say even months later, “it was _you_. You were the one who…”

The hand not in hers tilted her face up to his, cupping her jaw and brushing a thumb over the mark underneath her eye. He kissed her, a soft press of lips that was as gentle and grounding as he was, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

“You can’t promise that.”

His smile remained warm, but his eyes hardened, “No I can’t, but what I can promise you is that I won’t go anywhere without a fight…I won’t leave you without a fight.”

Clarice blushed, speechless at the conviction in his voice, but leaned forward to return the kiss. She pressed herself as close to him as she possibly could, threading the fingers of her free hand in his unbound hair and sliding a leg across his hips.

His palms glided down her back, leaving a trail of fire across her skin at they followed the curve of her spine and pulled them flush together. John drew back almost a minute later, seeming to sense the burning in her lungs, and smiled up at her.

“Stay with me?” The words poured out of her mouth before she’d registered herself saying it. Clarice almost hated the pleading tone in the question, a part of her still uncomfortable with allowing herself to be vulnerable with another person…to rely on someone other than herself, but the lingering images of the nightmare had her wanting him right there with her. Something solid that she could see and touch. Something _real._

“Of course.” He tugged her with him until his back was against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. One arm curled around her body and pulled her into his side, pressing another kiss to her hair, “Always.”

Clarice smiled into his shirt, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was him pulling the sheets around them and resting his cheek against her temple.


	8. Why Wait?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _If the stars_  
>  _are not aligned,_  
>  _I've always found_  
>  _it best to tug them_  
>  _into alignment._  
>  -Faraway
> 
> To celebrate the Season 2 premiere, I thought I would post something a little...fluffier (with some vague smut at the end). I hope you guys enjoy!

In the months following the split with the others of the Mutant Underground, they’d built upon the way station. They’d already built two smaller buildings in order to accommodate the new mutants they’d saved from the safe houses. Sentinel Services had (understandably) cracked down on them after Lorna had torn the plane from the sky…

Clarice was now leaning against the side of the main building, watching as John carried large pieces of lumber back and forth. She knew she should’ve been helping with the construction or even wrangling some of smaller kids to keep them from being underfoot, but she couldn’t look anywhere else…

His skin glistened with sweat (a telling indicator of how long he’d been working), biceps straining against the stupidly tight t-shirt that was already stretched across his broad back. Muscles flexed underneath the dark fabric in a way that left little to the imagination…

“So Clarice…” Lauren sidled up to her, arms folded across her chest.

She hummed, but didn’t look away.

“I have a question for you.”

If Clarice hadn’t been so distracted by his smile as he leaned down to talk to Norah, she might’ve heard the ominous tone in Lauren’s voice. Instead, she only shifted her weight, eyeing him appreciatively as he tied his hair back, “Shoot.”

“Have you two slept together or what?”

Clarice’s face went red and she had the pleasure of seeing John nearly drop the stack of the lumber he’d just picked up, turning to the smirking girl. “Trust me, Lauren,” she watched as he adjusted the weight in his arms and continued without looking in their direction, “it isn’t for lack of trying.”

Lauren’s expression sobered, “What’s going on?”

“He says we should wait…that now isn’t the time.” Clarice shrugged, “I can sort of see his point though. I mean, I’ve basically become one of the leaders since Lorna left…and there are other things…more important things, to take care of first.”

The blonde’s eyes seemed focused on a far-off point, “After Andy left…I looked back at the arguments that lead up to it. At the time, I’d thought that I could talk to him after we’d dealt with Campbell…but we never did.” she blinked away the tears, “You both care for each other…I can see that.”

Clarice looked down at her hands.

“Don’t put this off because you think this isn’t the time… _make_ time.” Lauren looked back at her, the pain of losing her brother just underneath the surface as she motioned to where Norah played with Zingo, “Why should you wait?”

She held the girl’s gaze, seeing the pain that came with the not knowing what would’ve come with her relationship with her brother. Clarice glanced over where she’d last seen John, but he wasn’t there. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I guess I’ll go hunt down our fearless leader.”

Lauren smiled, “Good luck.”

Clarice made her way over to where Norah was playing with Zingo, smiling as the girl’s laughter and dog’s playful barks echoed through the clearing. It was good to see the little sliver of joy and light brought back to the Mutant Underground. She ruffled Zingo’s ears when they both ran over to her, “You two having fun?”

Norah’s blue skin shone beautifully in the sun when she looked up at Clarice, lips pursed and eyes searching. She blinked seconds later, having quickly come to a conclusion, “Are you looking for John?”

Clarice breathed out a laugh, “Yeah, I am. Did you see where he went?”

The girl’s eyes flitted behind Clarice, “He said he was going to his room.”

“I’ll go find him then. Thanks, Norah.”

Norah smiled, “Let’s go Zingo!”

Clarice watched to play for only a moment, seeing a couple other children join them. For a moment, the days she’d spent with Mama D flashed through her mind and she remembered the favor she’d asked of Sonya. The sharp pain of their loss still ached like an old wound but seeing Norah happy helped. It reminded her that they just might get through this…

She shook her head of the thoughts, pulling open a portal and stepping through it in the same moment he came out of his connected bathroom, one of two rooms in the whole station to have one (a luxury everyone had silently agreed was something that both he and Marcos deserved after everything) and her mouth went dry…

He wore only faded jeans slung low on his hips, water from the shower dripping from his hair and trailing down his chest, one side of his mouth lifted as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off. “You wanted to talk?”

Clarice blinked once, twice before narrowing her eyes at him. That _asshole_. He knew the exact moment she’d come into his room and made a conscious effort to throw her off balance… He was trying to distract her… “Yes, so put a shirt on.”

He chuckled, draping the damp towel over the back of a chair and doing as she said.

Clarice sat on the end of his bed, drawing one leg up and resting her chin on her knee with a frown. She hated the small flash of disappointment she felt when smooth tan skin disappeared under thin cotton and the urge she had to run her fingers through his hair and... _God, did he even own a shirt that didn’t look a size too small?_

His teasing mood sobered, though, and he crouched in front of her.

It took her a moment to meet his eyes and when she finally did…

His eyes were soft, with one hand resting on her knee. “What is it?”

There was something she’d learned about John in the last couple of months: that for his physical invulnerability and ‘soldier’ façade, he had one of the biggest hearts she’d ever seen. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do or sacrifice to protect another under his care, regardless of the cost to him. After a lifetime of being abandoned by everyone, Clarice had seen the trait as one of the first things that made her truly care for him. But right now? Right now, she might’ve slapped him if it wouldn’t hurt her to do so. “I know you were listening, John so can you just cut it with the bullshit?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and getting to his feet.

She didn’t move from her spot on the bed. If Clarice hadn’t known any better, she would’ve pegged his current mood as nervous or even apprehensive, two things she wouldn’t have associated with him. So she stayed back, waiting to see what he was going to say…

“Clarice,” he ran a hand over his face, “you know we can’t…”

She reached back, grabbed a pillow, and threw it directly at his face. Clarice was proud that he seemed shocked by the action, his expression one she’d wished she’d had a camera for, grinning up at him.

He picked it up and tossed it behind her, “Real mature.”

“Worked didn’t it?”

John frowned. “Clarice…”

She pushed herself off the bed, wrapping her arms securely around his neck. Clarice nearly smiled as his hands immediately rested on her hips, holding his gaze as intently as she could, pouring everything into her question, “What are your feelings for me?”

Never in a million years did she think she would be the one in the relationship to ask a question like that, but here she was. Clarice watched the emotions played out in his eyes, very nearly blushing at the awe pouring out of them and the hand that reached up to cup her face, swallowing thickly as he finally spoke.

“Indescribable.”

She leaned into his touch, “Would it change anything?”

He rested his forehead against hers, and he breathed out, “No.”

Clarice closed her eyes and just stood with him, feeling the warmth and safety of his arms around her. “I’m not trying to push you into something…” she swallowed, not sure how to voice the sad fact that those who’d claimed to care for her in the past had thrown her away and that even though the thought of John doing the same was an impossible one, a small part of her still feared it… “It’s just…”

“I know,” his voice was laced with sadness, his hold on her tightening, “I know that people have been cruel to you and I’m sorry you ever had to go through that, but I swear to you, Clarice…I won’t ever abandon you.”

Clarice sucked in a breath, pulling back to _really_ look at him.

Those dark brown eyes carried the same intense heat they always did when looking at her, breaking down her defenses and peeling back every layer to expose her battered heart and broken trust…”You know that, don’t you?”

Clarice nodded, brushing her fingers over the high arcs of his cheekbones. She wondered what he saw in her, this amazing man who’d stayed with her as her powers nearly tore down a building, who held her while she fell apart after finding out the fate of her foster family, who shielded her from a storm of bullets… She reached up, raking a hand through his hair, “I’m starting to figure that out, yes.”

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes for a heartbeat. A smile slowly spread across his face and he pulled her closer, hands sliding under her tank top and up her bare back as he drew her into a heated, breathtaking kiss.

She moaned against his mouth as he lifted her onto the desk, her hands grasping at the fabric of his t-shirt as warmth flooded through her. Clarice almost smiled at the pained groan that rumbled in his chest as her fingers brushed along the sliver of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans, breathing heavy as he pulled back…

He didn’t pause, lips trailing along her jaw and down the length of her throat.

Clarice gasped as he found her pounding pulse, her fingers using the hold on his shirt to pull him even closer until his hips hit the desk hard enough for it to rattle. She felt him smile into the curve of her neck before lifting his head and regarding her with darkening eyes full of both amusement and heat.

“Eager aren’t we?”

“Shut up and take off your shirt.”

He laughed, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Only if you do.”

Clarice held his gaze as she slowly pulled the tank top over her head, leaving her in a plain black bra. She smiled at the hunger in his roaming eyes, reaching behind her and undoing the clasp. With bated breath, Clarice shrugged it off and tossed it behind her

A word in an unfamiliar language spilled from his mouth, “ _De'nzhone'_ …”

Clarice blushed, not needing a translation to read his body language as she leaned forward and tugged on his belt loops. She grinned as he met her halfway, gasping as his hands grasped the back of her thighs and pressed her bare chest flush against his. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Clarice’s hands found purchase on his neck, his shoulder, his back…reveling in the feeling of muscles flexing under her palms…

He lifted her with ease, taking three long strides before laying her back onto the mattress. His lips never left hers as they both kicked off their shoes and socks, the rest of the clothing soon following.

For the first time in a long time, Clarice let herself sink into another person…to give herself completely in a way she’d never done before. She smiled as their kisses deepened and exploratory touches grew bolder, gasping with each roll of his hips and when her world shattered in a kaleidoscope of brilliant whites and golds Clarice came to the to the (not so startling) conclusion that she loved this man.

And she had a feeling he felt the same.


	9. Just Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _...and his eyes._  
>  _I wanted those on me_  
>  _all the damn time._  
>  -Tiffany Simone

Clarice was on the edges of sleep when she heard the sound of someone trying to open the door, eyes flying open as she slid off the couch in the living room and hurriedly tiptoed to the kitchen to grab the first thing she could get her hands on: a frying pan.

Lauren, her roommate of only a semester, warned her of a creepy ex that might be coming by.

Considering whoever it was was picking the lock in the middle of the night, Clarice felt safe in assuming they weren’t welcome and since she’d had the landlord change the locks just last week, she figured it was someone who had a old key…

The door opened quietly and before the person could turn the light on, she swung.

The metal rung out as it struck their head, collapsing to the ground with a _thud._

Clarice walked around the unconscious form and turned on the light.

_Shit._

“Clarice? What’s going on?”

“I heard someone picking the lock and I though it was your ex so when they opened the door…”

Lauren walked around the counter, “That’s not Nick.”

Clarice ran a hand through her hair, “Yes, I’m aware.”

“So who is it?”

She set aside the pan and crouched down, brushing the dark hair back. Clarice pushed down the fluttering in her stomach when she took note of the strong lines of his face. _God, he was gorgeous…_ “I…I don’t know.”

“He looks familiar, though, doesn’t he?”

She frowned, running her gaze along his body. “He does.”

He was wearing faded jeans and worn leather jacket, the canvas duffle bag on the ground behind him. His distinctly Native features formed a blurry image in the back of her mind and only added to the feeling that she’d _seen_ him somewhere before. She _knew_ him…

_What was his name?_

Lauren ran her fingers over his scalp before she sat back on her heels. “Help me move him.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to do that.”

“Just trust me, Clarice.”

She pulled the bag away, resting it by the door, before she helped roll the man on his back as slowly as they could manage. Then she and Lauren both took an arm, pulling him towards to the direction of the living room and carpeted floor. “Jesus, he’s heavy.”

Lauren let out a breathless laugh, “I thought you like you guys with some muscle.”

Clarice very nearly dropped him, sputtering as her face went bright red. She tried to ignore the feeling of said hard muscle under her hands as she glared, “Really, Lauren? You’re trying to play matchmaker with the guy I knocked unconscious with a _frying pan_?”

“Yeah, just like Tangled.”

“You and your princess movies.”

Lauren grinned, “You _liked_ those princess movies if I recall.”

“Not Rapunzel.” She nudged the coffee table back with her foot, “Too cheery.”

“Figures.” The girl hummed thoughtfully as they lowered the man onto the ground, grabbing a throw pillow off one of the chairs and propping it under his head. She went to pull the blanket off the back of the couch. “You have a type.”

“Oh?” She looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, “Care to share with the class?”

“You’re into the more strong-and-silent types.”

“Lauren…”

“Like that night you hit on Marcos _and_ Lorna.”

Clarice groaned, “I was drunk…Why do people keep bringing that up?”

Lauren laughed, “Because it was _hilarious_.”

“Glad my embarrassment amuses you.” She turned to lay the blanket over the man when her eyes paused at the dog tags gleaming in the light. Setting the blanket aside, Clarice knelt down. These things always had the person’s name on it… She flipped them over, running her thumb along the first two lines of raised letters.

_Proudstar_

_J.M._

She dropped them, nearly falling back, “Shit!”

“What? Clarice, what is it?”

As if on queue, the phone in his pocket started ringing.

Her hand was on auto-pilot, reaching in and pulling out the phone.

_Marcos calling…_

_Double shit!_

She looked at John, Marcos’ _childhood friend_ who’d been overseas for nearly a year, then at the phone then back at John. Only she could take out a freaking soldier with a frying pain. God, how did she always end up in these situations?

Lauren was looking at her strangely, “Clarice?”

_And the embarrassment continues…_

Taking a deep breath, she answered the phone.

“Hey, brother. You get a cab yet?”

She cleared her throat, “Not exactly.”

“Clarice, what…why are you answering the phone? Where’s John?”

“Currently unconscious on my living room floor.”

The background noise quieted, Marcos’ voice tight with concern, “Did I hear that right?”

“That you did.”

“What the hell happened?”

“What _happened_?” Her voice cracked as she stood, pacing the length of the kitchen, “What happened is that Soldier Boy here decided it would be a smart idea to sneak into the apartment at three in the freaking morning!”

“So you knocked him out?” A heartbeat of silence passed before Marcos busted up laughing.

“Yes…what- this is not funny Marcos!”

“Oh, yes it is. John heard about Dawn and he wanted to surprise her and Lorna when he came home. He must’ve…been trying to surprise her ahead of time and the apartment you’re in now was Lorna’s until you took over the lease and he didn’t know we moved…”

“What about me hitting me over the head is so damn hilarious?”

“Because I haven’t been able to sneak up on the guy since I’ve known him. It’s like he’s got freaking eagle eyes in the back of his head…and that was _before_ he joined the Marines. Yet you meet him for the first time and knock him out?” He chuckled a little breathlessly, “God, I wish I could’ve seen it.”

Clarice frowned, “Wow, you sound _real_ concerned.”

“He’s got a thick skull, he’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” There was a commotion in the background that sounded a lot like cheering. Marcos sighed, sensing her concern, “Look, I’ll be over in a bit with Lorna, alright? Think you’ll be good until then?”

“I think so, but when-”

“See you soon.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” She stared down at the phone when the call disconnected, looking up when Lauren cleared her throat. Clarice sighed, setting the phone on the coffee table as she knelt on the floor again. “Marcos will be by with Lorna.”

“When?”

“No clue.”

Lauren pursed her lips, “So what are we supposed to do with…”

“John. And I guess we just wait ‘til he wakes up.”

The girl nodded, “I would stay up, but I have a presentation in a few hours-”

Clarice waved her off, “You’re okay  I knocked him out so it’s only fair I stay up with him.”

Lauren smiled, motioning to her and John, “Let me know how this goes?”

“Trust me, I will.”

She watched Lauren return to her room, the familiar sound of nails scrapping over linoleum alerted her to Zingo’s arrival, the shy dog sniffing curiously at the unconscious John and it wasn’t until she started licking his face that Clarice went to pull her back, “Zingo, no. Leave him be.”

John grimaced, bringing a hand up to push Zingo away.

“Damnit.” Clarice muttered, scooting back as the man pushed himself up.

He put a hand on the back of his head, looking over at with confusion for only a split second before what could only be described as embarrassment replaced it as he gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to-”

Her stomach did another flip, “It’s fine. I’m just glad I didn’t kill you.”

“Yeah, me too.” He grimaced as he felt the back of his head, “What did you hit me with?”

“Frying pan.” She stood, “Did you want an ice pack or…?”

“Yeah…” he got himself onto the couch, “Yeah, an ice pack sounds good.”

She padded over to the kitchen, grabbing a clean hand towel from under the sink. Clarice tried to ignore the feeling of his gaze on her as she pulled out a sandwich bag and filled it with ice, but couldn’t help but wonder if he was using those “eagle eyes” that Marcos spoke of... She shook her head, wrapping the bag in the towel before turning around and the words got trapped in her throat.

He’d shrugged off his jacket, the black t-shirt stretching enticingly across his chest and over his shoulders as he rested his head in his hands. John looked up, pushing back hair as it fell in his face, and smiled, “You going to actually give me the ice pack?”

She cleared her throat, “Uh, yeah…here you go.”

He took with an almost amused smile, “Thanks, and I’m sorry about-”

She shook her head, hating how off-balance he made her and Clarice had no doubts he’d noticed her wandering eyes. _Some first impression she was making_ … Clarice pulled the coffee table back to its original place, sitting down across from him, “You’re good. Marcos, he uh…he explained the mix-up.”

“Ah.” John sat up, “He tried to call me, right? See if I’d landed?”

“Yeah. He said he’ll be by with Lorna in a bit.”

“I’m sure he found this whole thing hilarious.”

“Oh he did.” She leaned back, “Almost couldn’t talk he was laughing so hard.”

 He smiled, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Clarice…Clarice Fong.”

“You’re Lorna’s old roommate…the one going into social work?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He hummed, “That’s a tough profession.”

“Says the soldier.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you’re not wrong.” He adjusted the ice pack. “Just making an observation.”

“Still…I’m sorry. I get a bit touchy when people…”

“Get personal.” He smiled softly, sympathetically. “It’s fine. I get it.”

Her fingers itched to smooth out the lines of concern in his face, hands curling over the edge of the coffee table instead. “Well, it still was unfair of me to snap at you so soon after I knocked you out.”

“I broke into your apartment, Clarice. Self-defense is warranted.”

She grinned, “It was a good hit though, wasn’t it?”

He hummed, a small smile forming, “Sure was. You play softball or something?”

“Nope, but I have been told I have a mean right hook.”

“I guess this’ll teach me never to get on your bad side.”

Clarice looked up at the warmth and teasing in his voice and she watched as his expression shifted almost infinitesimally. Her hands uncurled from the table and she found herself moving closer to him to see if she was just imagining his wandering eyes…

“Knock, knock.”

Marcos’ voice snapped them both out whatever spell they’d been under.

Lorna threw herself on John with an excited squeal, very nearly toppling him off the couch as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took her a moment to register his pained groan, the green-haired woman pulling back and slapping him on the shoulder, “That’s what you get for trying to surprise me, _dumkopf_.”

He laughed, “Love you too, _shilah_.”

She glanced at Marcos, who only watched the exchange fondly.

Lorna pulled back, “I told you you’d like her, didn’t I?”

Clarice sputtered as the woman’s raised eyebrow.

John chuckled, “She sure is something.”

Her face went bright red as she turned to look at him, her stomach dropping to the floor at the sheer intensity in his eyes…the _heat_ in those dark, fathomless depths staring right through her and promising so many things…

_God, she was so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  _dumkopf_ \- Yiddish for "dumb person" or "idiot"  
>  _shilah_ \- Western Apache for "sister"


	10. Your Lonely Calls to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Your lonely_  
>  _is so lovely._  
>  _It makes me wonder_  
>  _how something_  
>  _so beautiful_  
>  _can be so very sad._  
>  -Nikita Gill
> 
> There wasn't much content in this week's episode, but that scene with John and Zingo at the end really stood out to me and this one-shot wouldn't leave me alone. There is a warning for mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, and past child and animal abuse in this piece. Even with that in mind, I do hope you guys like this chapter.

Clarice didn’t immediately look up when the door to the shelter opened, too engrossed in paperwork to hear the bell ringing over the cacophony of barking coming from the kennels behind her. At least she didn’t until Zingo lifted her head to the door, ears lifting.

Zingo herself had been an arrival to the shelter two months ago, starved and nearly beaten to death. Whatever had been done to her had, understandingly, made her skittish around most people (especially men).

She must’ve seen something in Clarice (most likely shared experiences) and refused to leave her side, sitting curled by her feet every day without fail. She’d never shown interest when anyone came, usually hiding under the desk instead so Clarice glanced up to find two people hovering in the doorway and they could not have been more different.

One was a pale, green-haired woman, looking every inch the badass biker chic while her companion was a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked more the strong and silent type. The woman was saying something to him, but the man’s dark eyes seemed to be scanning the shelter _really_ intensely.

Clarice caught the gleam of dog tags around his neck and her heart ached in realization. She seen enough brutalized animals in the shelter the recognize the signs of trauma in a person. He obviously wasn’t going to start growling at her, but there was something in his eyes and the way he was putting himself between the door and his companion…

She stood, the movement getting their attention. She hoped her smile didn’t falter as the woman’s sharp gaze turned on her and the man regarded her with a hard, cataloging stare, “My name is Clarice. Is there any I can help you…” She trailed off as Zingo uncurled herself and ran around the desk…right at the man. “Zingo!”

The dog ignored her, sniffing at the man curiously.

Clarice didn’t want to go and try to pull her away too suddenly (for either of their sakes) and she could only watch the strange, almost alien interaction with wide eyes as the man looked down at her with an unreadable expression as Zingo licked his hand before walking around him once, twice before curling into a ball at his feet.

The woman looked between him and Clarice. “Does he normally do that?”

“She.” She corrected automatically, “And no, she doesn’t. Zingo’s…terrified of men.”

“You hear that, John?” The woman smiled, “ _Zingo_ likes you.”

Clarice went to walk around the desk and John to talk with the woman when she was startled by the sound of Zingo growling…at _her._ She glanced at the man realizing her proximity had made him go completely rigid. She held up hands up and stepped back slowly, “Okay, girl, I’m moving back alright. I’m going.”

“She’s a protective one isn’t she?” The woman noted.

“Yeah, but…” Clarice watched as Zingo almost _guided_ him over into the row of chairs in the corner, like she knew him being in the open made him nervous. “I’ve never seen her like this with anyone else but me.”

She hummed, “My name is Lorna, by the way.”

Clarice nodded, leaning back against the front desk, “How long has he been back?”

Lorna’s glanced at her once before looking over at John. “About a month.” She worried her lip, “He’s refusing to talk about it or go to group therapy. He hasn’t been sleeping and he’s told me he’s fine but…”

She nodded, “Has he tried applying for a service dog?”

Lorna sighed, “The estimated wait time is nearly two years.”

Clarice looked over at John and Zingo, the dog having climbed up onto the chairs and rested her head on John’s thigh. He ran his fingers through her fur, the nervous, agitated air around him seemed to have lessened, “They’ve really connected.”

“Yeah, that’s the most at ease I’ve seen him since he’s been back.” Lorna’s worry seemed to have lessened as well, but her sadness was still very much evident, “I’m assuming Zingo is not up for adoption?”

“Not yet, we’re still getting her back to a healthy weight, but after that…”

“She’s not yours?”

“No.” Clarice shook her head, “She’s taken a shining to me, but…”

Lorna nodded, “Does that mean you’re willing to part with her?”

She chuckled, “I’ll miss her, but I can see that she’s needed elsewhere.”

“When do you think she’ll be ready?”

Clarice looked over in time to see John smile down at Zingo, her heart lurching in her chest. It was like watching a light break over the horizon, the action completely transforming his features into something breathtaking and beautiful…she cleared her throat, shaking her head, “Uh…it’ll probably be two more weeks, just to be sure.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Wait.” Clarice turned, wondering what the hell she was doing as she scrawled her cell number down on a sticky note. “This is my number. If you want any updates or want to swing by here again, just gimme a call.”

“Thanks.” Lorna was looking at her a little strangely. “I will.”

Clarice watched the two of them leave, catching John’s gaze as the door shut. She felt pinned by those dark eyes in a way that should’ve frightened her, should’ve had her putting as much distance between them, but there was something buried in those depths…

Zingo barked, snapping her out of…whatever that was.

“Hey girl, seems you made a new friend huh?”

She licked her hand before going back to the bed and curling up.

Clarice laughed, “You are such a weirdo.”

…

It had been nearly four days since she’d talked to Lorna and John and Clarice couldn’t help but wonder why she was so anxious for them to call and she’d almost given on hearing from them until the two week mark rolled around when she was awoken in the middle of the night by her phone’s shrill ringing.

“Hello?” She held back a yawn, “Who is it?”

“Clarice, it’s Lorna.”

She reached blindly, turning on the light and running a hand through her hair, “Lorna, what-?”

“It’s John.”

Ice slide down her spine, shocking Clarice in alertness, “What’s-what’s going on?”

“Can you bring Zingo by? He’s not…he’s in the middle of a pretty bad flashback and I can’t snap him out it.” Lorna’s voice trailed off as a crash sounded, “Please, just come over. I’ll give the address.”

 _This was crazy._ She’d only met them once…there was no reason she should even been considering this but she couldn’t get the one smile out of her mind. There was a light buried in him, underneath the weight he carried. “Give me the address.”

She scrawled it down, “I can be there in ten.” Clarice hung up and scrambled through her apartment, pulling her hair back into a messy bun and throwing on the first clothes she could find before grabbing her keys, “Come on, girl. Let’s go.”

Her fingers were white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she followed her phone’s GPS to the address, an apartment complex, and practically ran up three flights of stairs with Zingo right on her heels. She stopped when she saw Lorna standing outside a slightly ajar door, resting her head against the doorframe. “John, please…it’s Lorna.”

“Lorna?”

The woman spun around, relief flashing through her eyes before another thud sounded. She didn’t even get a chance to do or say anything before Zingo went into the apartment, holding up a hand to stop Clarice from following.

She came closer though, peeking her head just far enough past the doorframe to see.

The apartment looked as though a hurricane had torn through it: overturned furniture and glass glittered on the wooden floor. In the center of all was John, sitting with his back against the couch with his head bowed and one arm on a drawn up knee.

Zingo rested her head on the leg curled underneath the other and something in Clarice was drawn to the sight of his bloody knuckles as he ran gentle fingers through the mottled gray-black fur, the red bright against the white spots as he moved back and forth, back and forth…

She blinked, feeling two points of heat on her, realizing he’d lifted his head to look at her.

Those eyes were dark with shadows, with ghosts, with demons…

_Where was that light she’d seen before?_

“John?” Lorna’s voice was soft, “You back with us?”

His whole expression went eerily blank for a couple seconds before he shook his head and forced a small smile that had nothing behind it. He pushed himself up, careful of the glass as he went to the sink and turned on the water.

Lorna pursed her lips together at the lack of verbal response, but said nothing more as she stepped through the door and motioned for Clarice to follow. She looked down at Zingo with almost a thankful look.

Clarice watched him run his hands under the stream, noting the lack of anything telling her that he felt pain which was all the more concerning considering the water looked to be scalding. She knew she should wait for a queue from Lorna or him, but she walked over to him anyway.

John body stiffened but he didn’t move away as she came to his side.

“Do you have a first aide kit?” She refused to look at his face. _No telling what stupid thing she’d do then…_ She focused instead on his split knuckles and the bruises darkening on his brown skin, “Those hands need to be bandaged.”

He shut the water off, “There’s no need. I’ve inconvenienced you enough tonight.”

She glanced back at Lorna, who only mouthed _good luck_.

Clarice sighed, reaching out to catch one of his hands in hers and she tried to ignore the shock that went up her arms at the contact. She felt him flinch and Clarice was surprised that he didn’t immediately rip his hand away. “You’re bleeding, just let me help.”

Then he pulled away, “I can wrap my own hands.”

She looked over at Lorna, “First aid kit? And rubbing alcohol?”

“I’ll go get it.”

Now John looked frustrated, “Look ma’am, but I don’t-”

“It’s Clarice.” She cut him off and finally met his eyes. “And I’m going to help. So sit.”

He almost appeared shocked by her stubbornness but the gritted teeth also told her that he abhorred accepting help from anyone and Clarice could see the reasons for Lorna’s concern more clearly. This man seemed to think he could hide his pain from others like a wounded animal who licked their own wounds in private to keep anyone from knowing there was something wrong to begin with.

Lorna reentered, a white metal box in hand, and sighed, “ _Christ_ , John just let her help.”

He shot the woman a glare.

She snorted, “I’m not one of your men, Proudstar. That look won’t work on me.”

Clarice almost laughed at the clear exasperation that flashed across his face, the anger fading as he looked between the two of them. She wondered what he saw as he let out a long breath and leaned back against the counter in resignation.

Lorna handed her the kit.

She set it on the counter and pulled out what she needed, opening the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “I need you to give me a hand…” Clarice took his proffered hand and guided it over the sink, “and this will definitely hurt.”

He hissed as she poured it over his knuckles. “Thanks for the warning.”

She smiled as she grabbed a roll of bandages, “Figured you already knew that.”

He was silent as she started unraveling the roll.

Clarice once again refused to meet that eyes boring into her head, the feeling of his hand in hers and the heat of his body was distracting enough without adding anything else to the mix. She instead tried to remember everything Denise had ever told her about how to correctly wrap a hand, “Straighten out your fingers for me.”

He did as she asked, “You ever do this before?”

“Once or twice.” She replied, “My last foster mom was an ER nurse.”

John hummed, “Looks like you got into a few fights yourself.”

Clarice glanced at her own scarred knuckles, “Yeah well, the little ones were easier targets so…”

“You protected them from the other kids?”

“Sometimes.” She responded vaguely, “Your other hand please.”

“So who protected you from the adults?”

She poured the hydrogen peroxide over his split skin without warning, the words coming out harder than she wanted them to. “I protected myself.”

“Sorry…” he grimaced, “I didn’t mean to drug up anything.”

She almost laughed. _Seriously?_ The man had literally almost destroyed his apartment during a nightmare-induced flashback and he was apologizing for something that had happened to her over a decade ago. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“He’s a big boy.” Lorna grinned, sitting on the island, “He can take it.”

John’s smile was fond when he looked at her, “ _Shilah_ …”

“ _Bruder_.” She responded in kind, swinging her legs.

Clarice watched the interaction as she finished wrapping his second hand, their relationship suddenly coming into light. She seemed more a concerned, nagging little sister than a hovering girlfriend and for a moment, Clarice wondered why she was so _relieved_ at the revelation.

She twisted the lid back on the bottle and gathered up the used supplies, going to walk past him.

He caught her forearm, “Hey, I really am sorry. I know I woke you up and…”

Clarice’s face warmed as she shook her head, “No, it’s fine. I’m glad Zingo and I could help.”

Lorna raised an eyebrow, no doubt noticing the blush. “Is she ready to be adopted?”

“There’s couple more things we need to be sure about, but I think she’ll be ready in about a week.” She pulled herself away from his stare, looking down at Zingo and she could’ve sworn the dog was actually judging her. “What do you think, girl?”

She barked, tail wagging excitedly.

John chuckled, that same sunrise smile breaking across his face.

Clarice sucked in a sharp breath, stomach flipping and her heart lurching. She shoved down the urge to brush the dark strands of hair that had fallen out of the bun out of his face. _Damnit_ , _what the hell was he doing to her?_

He looked up at the sound and something in his eyes told her he knew.

She should’ve been terrified that this man she barely knew could look at her and see everything so clearly, could see into her past and all the things she’d hidden from the world and not judge her for it. But she wasn’t. Not in the least.

For the first time, she was fine with being seen.

“So Lorna tells me you gave her your number?”

She swallowed, glancing at woman pointedly not looking at her, “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Would you mind if I got it from her?”

“I can do you one better, soldier.” Clarice managed, holding out a hand, “Your phone?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin, “Yes ma’am.”

 


	11. Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"But you rolled in with your hair in the wind_   
>  _Baby without warning._   
>  _I was doin' alright but just your sight_   
>  _Had me stormin'"_
> 
> "Hurricane"- Luke Combs

Six years and seven months.

That's how long it'd been since he'd last spoken to Clarice the summer after high school. Since the day he told her he was enlisting and their screaming match had dissolved into tears as she'd confessed that she couldn't be with him. That she couldn't live with the constant worry and fear that he would die and leave her alone ("I've had enough fear to last a lifetime").

" _So what are you saying?"_

" _I'm saying goodbye."_

The words had hurt, but he'd understood… because he remembered the toll this life had taken on his own mother, the day she'd collapsed with a choked sob still vivid despite the fact he'd only been eight when his father had died. John bore the pain of her leaving like he did everything else. Even if it killed a part of him.

So he'd let her go and buried the heartbreak in the deserts of Afghanistan in the years that followed, focusing on mission after mission. He shoved everything down. Compartmentalized because it was better than the alternative.

Then an IED had ended his military career, leaving him with a body covered in scars and a mind in ruins. Everything that had been shoved down for years had overflown. The pain in his chest had been a raw nerve, as fresh as the day she'd looked at him with tears shining in her eyes. It had sent him spiraling.

The year after that had been a blur of days spent in physical therapy and psychiatrists' offices and nights spent screaming at Lorna and Marcos to leave him the hell alone, that they didn't know anything. Nights where popping pills and picking fights were better than facing the demons in his head or being forced to acknowledge the gaping hole in his chest…

Lorna and Marcos had gotten him through it all somehow, dragging him kicking and screaming into sobriety. Neither had flinched at the cruel words he'd flung at them, at the weak points he'd jabbed over and over again because if he had to suffer then so did they.

He was glad Clarice had left him before she ever saw that side of him.

John wasn't sure he wouldn't have been able to live if he'd turned that anger on her because, despite the fact that she'd left him, he only felt sadness and longing when he thought about her. He knew her leaving him was painful for them both and saw no need to kick her while she was down because he didn't blame her for anything that had happened.

They'd both built their walls.

It wasn't her fault his had crumbled.

"Why so serious, brother?"

He blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Marcos leaned against the wall.

His friend eyed him with clear concern.

"It's nothing, Marcos." He walked around the pool table until he found a doable shot and leaned down to line up the angle. John smirked, "Just thinking about how I'm going to kick your ass two games in a row."

Marcos laughed, "Oh really?"

"Really. Ten to the right corner pocket." He struck the cue ball, grinning as the striped ball sunk into the named pocket. He found another shot easily, once again leaning down, "Fifteen to the center pocket."

"Eight ball to the left corner pocket."

_Thunk._

Marcos let out a colorful string of Spanish.

John chuckled, "You're  _such_ a sore loser."

"Keep laughing, Proudstar. See how much you like losing when it's Lorna's turn to play you."

"Where is your fiancé anyways?" he finished off the rest of his water, fishing quarters out of his pockets and pushing them into the designated slots to ready another game. "Aren't you two attached at the hip or something?"

"She's just at the bar."

"Still?" He set the triangle on the table, setting the balls in and rolling it back and forth without looking up. Straightening, he set the triangle down next to his empty glass and turned to smile at his friend, "And you're not with her?"

Marcos just shook his head. "She's perfectly capable of getting us drinks."

"Best three out of five then? I'll go easy on you this time."

He finished off his beer, "No you won't."

"C'mon." John handed him his cue stick, "You can even break."

"You know, you're a horrible liar."

" _You're hiding something from me, John."_

_He looked down at the woman lying across his chest, brushing damp hair away from her flushed face with a small smile as he let his fingers linger on the inked vines and lilies that started behind her ear and crawled down her throat. "About what?"_

" _There's something you're not telling me."_

" _What makes you think I'm hiding something from you?"_

_She propped herself up, drawing him into a long, languid kiss, almost grinning as he chased her mouth. "I know how much you hate lying and that you would rather stay silent than say anything untrue. So tell me, John…" Clarice brushed her thumb over his lips with an almost sad expression, like she knew whatever he told her was going to hurt, "What is it?"_

John shook the memory aside, smiling at Marcos, "So I've been told."

Marcos just laughed, "Ah, what the hell?"

The game hadn't started out too badly in his friend's favor, Marcos putting four balls into the pockets before John had put in even one. It was not for lack of trying, though. His friend had managed a couple of lucky shots that had seemed to surprise even him (to John's amusement) all the while blocking John.

John had just leaned over to line up another shot when he heard Lorna's voice.

"Such focus." She teased, setting down their drinks, "Is he beating you?"

"Five to the left corner pocket." He smiled as it dropped in, "Not for long."

"And he calls  _me_ a sore loser," Marcos muttered.

"I haven't lost yet. Seven to the center pocket." He eyed the table, lining up the shot, and frowned as the ball stopped just short of the pocket. "Damn."

Lorna chuckled, "Would you like some help?"

"I'm good, thanks." He opened the can of Sprite, "How was the bar?"

She drank her own beer, "Visiting the bar alone is always a pleasure."

John smiled. "At least you didn't punch anyone this time."

Marcos snorted.

"That jackass grabbed me after I specifically told him to not to." She shrugged, leaning back against the pool table, her rings clanking against the long neck of the bottle. "He's lucky I didn't have my knives…or either of you."

John and Marcos glanced at each other, before saying in unison, "Fair enough."

"Now are you going keep playing or…?"

"John?"

He went rigid for a split second, a million different memories washing over him at once and he turned to find Clarice Fong standing with a glass of amber liquid in her hand and a slightly shocked expression. "Clarice?"

Lorna smirked, "You two know each other?"

John opened his mouth, but it was like her very presence sucked all oxygen from his lungs and trapped all the words in his throat. He felt like he was back in high school again like no time had passed, and it was frustrating as hell.

Clarice was the first one to recover, "Yeah, we uh…we dated in high school."

Marcos was looking at him now with a thoughtful expression.

John knew the two were owed an explanation, as he'd known them for nearly five years and had never mentioned Clarice. Early on, just the thought of bringing her up had hurt too much and he didn't want his broken heart coloring their view of her and by the time he finally felt comfortable enough to talk, too much time had gone by…

Lorna's smile widened as she glanced at John, " _Really_?"

Clarice's cheeks darkened, but she had never been one to let new people see her sweat. She ran a hand through her hair, now a light shade of lavender instead of a deep violet, and smiled as she held out a hand. "Well, as John so eloquently put it, I'm Clarice."

Lorna took her hand, "Lorna. This is my fiancé, Marcos."

He drank his Sprite, wishing for something a lot stronger but he knew any move to the bar would not end well. If Lorna didn't flat out tackle him first, the reasons he remained sober would definitely do it. Maybe the gym was still open…

He set down the can, tightening his grip on the cue stick as he tried to focus on the smooth wood in his hands or the game of pool that he was currently losing… or really  _anything_  other than the woman who'd come crashing back into his life like a desert thunderstorm. Appearing suddenly and without warning.

But  _gods_ , he'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was, even dressed casually in ripped skinny jeans and fitted black V-neck tee with matching ankle boots. The outfit accentuated her curves and his fingers itched to follow every line, see if her skin was still as soft as it had been all those years ago-

Marcos nudged his shoulder, forcing his eyes away before Clarice noticed.

John clenched his jaw.

"Is there a reason you didn't tell us or…"

He turned away, facing the pool table. "Our break-up was mutual but…painful. I had just enlisted and she just…couldn't be a relationship with someone who could leave her alone and die in a war a world away."

Marcos hummed. "You still love her."

John said nothing, staring intently at the cue balls and trying to formulate a shot but all he could focus on was the fact that she was here now. His stomach clenched as her laughter rang out and he knew if he turned, she'd be wearing that breathtaking smile.

_If he kissed her, would she still taste the same?_

"Wanna keep playing? Focus on something else?"

_Don't know how well it's going to work._  He managed a small smile. "Sure."

Marcos motioned to the table, "Your turn."

The game went about as well as expected, John only getting three of his balls in before Marcos sank the eight ball and he waved off another game. He was struggling enough not to look over his shoulder every time she spoke…any game would go exactly the same.

"Hey babe, wanna go a round?"

"Sounds fun." Lorna looked at John then at Clarice before taking another drink of her beer with a grin that was not at all subtle. She leaned in as she grabbed his cue stick. "If it helps you at all, that girl has been undressing you all night."

He nearly groaned, face darkening. "Lorna…"

"Go get her, soldier."

Clarice watched their exchange with a raised brow and crooked smile, her lavender hair and vibrant green eyes splashes of color in the dimly light bar. "I was wondering when you were finally going to stop ignoring me."

"I could never ignore you,  _shiyá'ái háyáá_." The endearment slipped out, pulled from deep in his self-conscious and he just barely stopped himself from reaching up to brush her hair back, still the color of an Arizona sunrise…he curled his hand into a fist at his side.

They weren't in high school anymore, he had to remind himself. This wasn't a whispered late night conversation under the sheets with slow kisses and even slower hands. They weren't  _together_ anymore…hadn't been for almost seven years. Surely, he'd lost the right to call her anything more than her name the moment they'd split…

She laughed, "Really? Even though I changed the color?"

Something akin to hope rose up in him at the observation that she hadn't been upset by his words or even embarrassed. She was teasing him like no time had passed, smiling that crooked smile with that spark of wildness in her eyes that had first drawn him to her all those years ago, like a mischievous spirit urging him to let go of whatever kept him grounded.

The freedom that he'd found with her was something he could never replicate and he wanted so much to be swept back into her orbit. His body, so beaten and broken and heavy with all it had endured,  _craved_ that release, that weightlessness that came when she was in his arms…

He smiled instead, reaching for his drink, "Yes, even though you changed the color."

She hummed, glancing at Lorna and Marcos before looking into her glass for a long moment then back up at him. Clarice sipped the amber liquid before she pursed her lips and asked, "So, John…how have you been?"

His smile slipped for a moment before Lorna laughed as Marcos whispered something in her ear and she jabbed him in the stomach. "It's…the last couple of years have been rough, but those two got me through it."

Clarice nodded, her fingers finding one of his (many) scars and following the pale line that curled around his left forearm. Her expression was unreadable, but for a moment, her eyes seemed to harden…

He pulled his arm back, trying to shift her attention onto something else for both their sakes. His skin tingled from her touch and he hoped she didn't notice how he was straining himself in an effort not to pull her back, "What about you?"

She blinked, not looking too hurt by his abrupt movement and the distance he'd put between them. "I'm uh…I'm working on my Master's Degree in Social Work right now. Once I finish, I'll be able to apply for a license."

"A social worker." He smiled, "It suits you."

She shrugged, her cheeks pink, "I'm not one yet."

"You'll get there." He finished his Sprite, setting the can aside, "I know it."

She drained her drink, "Still so blindly optimistic, huh?"

"It's not blind." He held her gaze, "I know you'll get whatever you set your mind to."

Clarice looked over at Lorna and Marcos, the latter with his arms wrapped around Lorna from behind and kissing her on the cheek, and the teasing air seemed to melt into something he hadn't seen from her until that fateful day: uncertainty.

He forced his own (similar) feelings down and waited for her to speak.

She turned to him and took his hand in hers, slender fingers sliding between his. "And if I said I still wanted you, what would you say then? Would I still get what I want?" Clarice ran her gaze over his face, trying to find… _something_ , "Or would you turn me away as I did to you that summer."

John frowned, "You didn't turn me away, Clarice."

"Didn't I?" She looked down at their hands, "I knew how much being a soldier meant to you back then, knew how much you wanted to protect others and I…I punished you for it. I left you alone to go fight in a war and then never talked to you again." Green eyes filled with tears, "You got hurt. You could've died and I wasn't there for you. I abandoned you."

He shook his head, "I let you go, Clarice."

"And that makes it okay?"

John smiled, reaching up to cup her jaw, and his heart skipped a beat as she leaned into it without hesitation, "I could've tried to make you stay, but I knew that if I tried to force you when you clearly felt trapped, it would poison our relationship and turn it into something it was never supposed to be."

She sucked in a sharp breath, "John…"

His thumb brushed over her cheek, "Leave the past in the past,  _shiyá'ái háyáá_."

"Does that include you?"

"Only if you want it to."

That mischievous spark was back in her eyes as she glanced over at Marcos and Lorna engulfed in their game before turning back to him. She tugged at his hand with a cheeky grin, pulling him to her with no resistance, "Then I don't want to."

He stopped, her lips were hairsbreadths away from his. She was right there, right in front of him with those eyes and that smile and he suddenly felt like a teenager all over again, fighting the urge to let go of the last threads of his self-control and damn propriety.

So he did.

She tasted of tequila and something sweet, something so irrevocably  _her_. Her hands slid up his neck and into his hair, nails raking along his scalp while his arm wrapped around her waist. She smiled at the small groan that slipped out, teeth catching his bottom lip.

He replied as soon as he could catch his breath, "My place."

She grinned, "Your place it is."

He didn't remember anything of the trip back to his apartment complex, but he knew he would never forget the feel of her skin under his hands and the sound of her laugh as they stumbled down the hallway and into bed.

All the years faded away as clothing was shed, Clarice's hands mapping every new scar with her hands and her mouth with his fingers sliding through her hair and he watched as the lamplight flooding in from the street turned her hair silver.

She pushed him back onto the mattress with a wicked smile as she climbed atop him, hands following every dip and swell as they moved up his chest and all coherent thought fled as he sank into her body, English completely failing him as she began to move.

He'd almost thought the whole thing a dream when he woke the next morning to an empty bed and he'd almost cursed himself for being so stupid…that is until she walked in wearing nothing but his shirt and holding a mug of black coffee. "Beautiful."

"English!" She grinned, handing the mug, "I thought I'd broken you for sure."

He set it on the bedside table, pulling her down on the bed.

She let out a squeal of laughter that was only silenced as he kissed her.

"Good morning,  _shiyá'ái háyáá._ " He said as he brushed back her hair, lips moving along her jaw and following the vines down her neck and he smiled as her breath caught. One hand slid up her thigh and under his shirt while the other followed the curve of her spine…

She gasped as he nipped at her pulse, hands gliding up her sides as he pushed up the shirt to expose all that beautiful golden skin to his eyes, pulling her back down onto him as he threw the shirt aside.

And for the first time since that summer day so many years ago, he finally felt whole.

Free.

_Happy._


	12. Sense of Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You are a sense of calm_  
>  _an endless sky_  
>  _a brilliant sea_  
>  _You are the answer to all the questions._  
>  _You are a lover's eyes, and hope for destiny._  
>  -Tiffany Simone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the huge update gap. I'm officially a college graduate and the last month has just been insane. Even with the cancellation news, I will continue to update both Stars on Our Knuckles and You Lonely Calls to Me, the latter of which should be updated by Saturday. I hope you enjoy this little one-shot that takes places between Season 1 and 2! Let me know what you guys think!

There was a part of Clarice that was always watchful of those around her, waiting to be left behind once she was no longer useful…no longer enough, left over from a childhood of foster homes and years on the streets. She’d learned that in the time since Lorna, Sage, and Andy left, she could use that same part to read others.

Marcos was a shadow, burdened with grief and disbelief. Angry. All he wanted was Lorna and his child back. It showed in the heavy eyes, tight jaw, and the light that would flicker between the fingers of his clenched fists.

The Struckers were all frayed at the seams, the loss of a son and brother taking a large chunk out of the once close-knit family. Caitlyn and Reed were left hollow by Andy’s departure, blaming themselves for not being able to save him, blaming Lorna and the Hellfire Club for taking their son away.

Lauren herself had aged a decade in the months that followed, desperately clinging to the beliefs of the X-Men and the Underground even if they’d put her against her brother. She’d hardened in a way that Clarice herself recognized because she saw it every time she looked in a mirror, fighting for something she believed in and sacrificing a lifelong relationship because of it.

And John…

That man was so difficult to read.

She knew that at times, he thought himself a failed leader…that the X-Men had made a mistake in choosing him. Clarice had seen every loss weigh him down: Gus, Sonya, Lorna, Sage… With every life lost and every friend who turned away from him, she saw just how much he’d sacrificed. But these were all things she knew because he’d said as much.

He kept his emotions so tempered down and hidden to save face it was a miracle he hadn’t slipped yet. He slept so little and did so much for everyone without complaint or sign of discomfort, waving off her questions and worries with a small smile for weeks.

She kept a closer eye on him more than anyone, watching for even the slightest hint that he was overexerting himself. It was hard thing to watch for when his abilities made it almost impossible for her to catch him and it wasn’t until she watched him talking to one of the new refugees, a mother and child, crouched in front of their cot that she finally saw it.

The child, no more than two years old, tangled one chubby fist in John’s hair and pulled.

He waved off the mother’s apologies with an easy smile when she gently uncurled her child’s fingers. With a few parting words, he straightened, eyes slipping closed for a long moment, making an excuse when the woman asked him a question before he turned to walk away.

Clarice frowned. She’d seen him track enough times to know that that wasn’t what had just happened. It had looked like the act of just standing had taken everything out of him… She tried to remember the last time he’d actually slept, but in the last week she’d fallen asleep before he ever laid down or he was already up before her. _Had he slept at all?_

She followed him to his office, leaning against the doorway as he looked over the various maps, blueprints, and lists spread across the table. Clarice didn’t bother announcing herself, knowing that John would’ve sensed her long before she’d entered.

Nearly a minute passed before he spoke, “Something you want to talk to me about?”

She folded her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow, “When was the last time you slept?”

He paused in his writing, looking up, “Clarice, I’m fine.”

She frowned. “You’re avoiding the question.”

John sat back in the chair, “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m telling you I’m fine.”

Clarice held his stare, truly seeing the shadows under his eyes for the first time. He was tired and too stubborn to admit to it, the weariness buried so far in that gaze it was a wonder she’d noticed at all. She walked forward, stepping in between his legs and placing light hands on his shoulders. “You may be fine right now, but you look seconds from dropping out of exhaustion.”

He huffed out a breath.

She very nearly rolled her eyes, glancing at the cracked analog clock hanging on the opposite wall. _1:36 am._ Clarice hadn’t realized how late it was. Working alongside John had a habit of throwing off her entire sleeping schedule.

She pressed a quick kiss to his mouth before pulling back, nearly smiling he leaned into the touch, “It’s late, John. Come to bed with me…just until I fall asleep? Then you can come back and do…” she waved at the table, “whatever it is you’re doing.”

He was clearly skeptical, but he stood slowly. “Alright.”

Pulling off her jeans the moment the bedroom room door shut, Clarice looked over her shoulder to find that intense gaze lingering on her bare legs. She bit back a smile as she climbed into bed, taking note of his momentary pause before he joined her in the bed.

His arm automatically wrapped around her, drawing her to his side.

Clarice knew she would have to find a way to get him to fall asleep before she did, his embrace already beginning to make her drowsy. How could one person be so freaking warm? She pressed herself closer, draping an arm over his chest and brushing her lips along his neck, “You are not a very comfy pillow.”

John raised a brow, looking down at her, “So you keep telling me.”

She smiled, sliding a leg across his waist and planting her hands on his shoulders.

His thumbs begun to trace patterns on her bare thighs, “I thought you were tired.”

“Maybe I was.” Clarice brushed her hair to one side and leaned down until her lips grazed his jaw, smiling as his fingers played with the hem of her top. She pulled back, his mouth hovering beneath hers, “Or _maybe_ I just wanted you in bed.”

One hand curled over the back of her neck, his gaze falling to her mouth.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she tilted his head back and closed the distance.

He groaned against her lips, his hand gliding up her thigh.

She halted him, curling her fingers around his wrist as she trailed open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, feeling him shudder beneath her as her free hand slid underneath his shirt to trace the lines of his torso, “You’re wearing too many clothes…” she whispered, tugging at his earlobe with her teeth, “Maybe we can do something about that.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as she dug her nails into his skin hard enough for him to feel it.

Before Clarice could say anything more, she was underneath him.

Hands on either side of her head, he grinned down at her with smoldering dark eyes.

She groaned as his lips found her pulse the same moment his hand pushed up her shirt, pulling his hair from the tie so she could thread her fingers through the dark, silky strands and tug sharply. Clarice smiled at the expected tremor that went through him, only to gasp as his teeth nipped lightly at her throat in retaliation.

They separated long enough to remove every single barrier between them.

Clarice would never tire of the feeling of all that bare skin against hers, his touch bringing all her blood rushing to the surface like a magnet and as she arched up into him, she let herself sink into his warmth like she always did.

His reverent words whispered along her body sounded like a prayer, a long forgotten gospel being seared into her skin with every feather-light kiss, and she’d knew she never feel as beautiful as she did in this moments. Or so worshiped…

And when they finally collapsed breathless in a tangle of languid limbs and sleepy smiles, Clarice knew she’d succeeded in distracting him…at least for now and as she draped an arm across his stomach and laid her head over his heart, she hoped that it would be enough to ease the strain he was under. To quiet his mind for the night.

He murmured into her hair, “Clarice?”

“Hmm?”

His knuckles lightly trailed up her thigh, “I know what you’re doing.”

Clarice craned her head up, “Do you now?”

The smile could be heard in his voice, “Your execution could use some work.”

She laughed, “Yet you came to bed anyways.”

“What can I say?” He lowered his mouth to her ear, “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

Clarice shuddered as his teeth nipped at the tip of her pointed ear, a sensitive spot that he _loved_ to exploit any chance he got and a choked groan slipped out as his lips continued their downward path. “You sure it’s was my face you were looking at?”

He let out a throaty chuckle as his fingers glided down her ribcage. “Among other things.”

She squirmed as his unbound hair tickled her stomach, Clarice struggled to string together a coherent sentence or hell…even a coherent thought, but then his hands pressed her hips down into the mattress and it wasn’t long before even breathing became secondary to the heat curling around the base of her spine, tighter and _tighter_ …

The tension snapped with a soft scream as her vision when blindingly white for a moment, the beginnings or portals crackling and sparking around the room as her hands fisted the fabric of the sheets.

She gasped, fingers slowly uncurling as she sank back onto the mattress.

He laid down next to her and prompted himself up on his elbow, brushing hair back off her flushed face with a crooked smile. His fingers continued their path along her jaw and down her neck, her chest as he pulled the sheets up, “You know, you should really learn to control your abilities.”

Clarice groaned. _Damn tease._  “If I could move right now…”

“You’d what?”

She turned her head, “I’ll think of something.”

John laughed again, the sound somehow deep and light at the same time. “I’m sure you will.”

“Well, you won’t see it coming…” Clarice rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes with a small smile at the peace radiating from him. He needed to let himself breathe once in a while and watching him shed the “Thunderbird” persona and just be himself…be John, was a breathtaking thing to witness. “I know that much.”

He reached behind him to turn off the lamp and pull the sheets to cover her.

She curled into him, “Does this mean you’re actually going to sleep?”

“You almost sound surprised.” His drew her back into him, draping an arm over her waist and pressing a long, lingering kiss to the back of her neck, “I thought that was the whole point of this… _endeavor_.”

“No more talking, alright.” She closed her eyes, “Just sleep”

“Just sleep.” He breathed against her throat, “That sounds…perfect.”

Clarice smiled, sinking into the warmth and safety of his embrace.

It was best night of sleep either of them had had in a long time.


End file.
